3 #2
“Can I get you both a drink to start?” Our waitress asks, but she’s not looking at the both of us. Instead, her attention is firmly fixed on Conor.
“Sash, what would you like?”
“I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.” I smile up at the woman but she barely spares me a glance as she writes in her pad.
Her attention falls back on Conor, smiling brightly at him and clearly eye fucking him. “And for you?”
“Just the same, please.”
The waitress leaves, looking over her shoulder at Conor’s back, almost tripping over another diners chair. I stifle a laugh, looking back to Conor. “Does this happen to you a lot?”
“What?”
“Girl’s practically falling for you.”
He shrugs with far too much confidence. “Always.” We both laugh, Conor’s deep blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “Why? You jealous?”
“You wish, pretty boy.”
The waitress comes back carrying two large glasses of wine.
Again, she only has eyes for the man in front me, not bothering to look at where she’s placing my glass and almost spilling my wine when she sets in on top of my fork.
I don’t even think she noticed that I had to catch it to stop the glass from tipping. I’ll be wearing my dinner next.
“Enjoy.” She purrs, winking at Conor before sauntering off with a sway of her hips.
“That’s so unprofessional.” I mutter, taking a huge sip of my wine. “I mean, seriously, there’s no need for it. She’s at work. She can just search you up online later and undress you with her eyes then.”
“Careful there, Sash. You’re starting to sound jealous.” Conor teases, an amused smirk lighting up his handsome face.
“Oh please.” I murmur, rolling my eyes. “If I wanted your attention, you’d know about it.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmhmm.”
“And just for future reference, what would that look like?” Conor asks, a smug grin spreading across his lips.
“You’ll just have to wait and find out.” I’ve never needed to get a man’s attention before because I always had one, so I guess I’ll have to wait and find out what that looks like too.
Our conversation flowed easily after that. We talked about work, hockey, Olivia and Josh, childhood stories. Everything and nothing all at once.
Conor ordered the largest pizza on the menu with all the toppings and fries on the side. Somehow, he managed to eat every single piece of food in front of him and still had half of my pasta… and then ordered dessert. It was mind blowing. I don’t even think he chewed the food, just inhaled it.
To be fair, I wasn’t much better. I didn’t know your tastebuds could have an orgasm before but that’s the only way to describe what happened when I had my first bite of the tomato and garlic pasta.
I moaned. Actually moaned. And my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
I should have been embarrassed at the dirty looks from the people surrounding us but Conor’s amused smirk made everyone else fade away.
He had dirty thoughts swirling around in his head.
It was very clear from the sex eyes he was directing straight at me.
“Don’t you dare.” I warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I absolutely was.” Heat climbed to my cheeks, but not from embarrassment.
I’m having the best evening. This beats sitting at home, watching trashy TV and eating takeout on my own.
The atmosphere, the food and something I never thought I would admit, the company, has all been amazing.
Conor is hilarious. I’ve spent almost my whole time here laughing.
I can see why Liv really likes him. He’s kinda hard not to like once you get to know him.
There’s something different about Conor. Beneath all the jokes and the smiles, there’s something else. Every now and then, when he thought I wasn’t looking, something darker flickered behind those blue eyes. Sadness, loneliness. It’s something he keeps carefully hidden.
And I think the only reason I recognized it is because I do exactly the same thing.
“Thank you for dinner.” I tell Conor when we step back into the warm evening air. “It was really good.”
“Yeah, I could tell you liked it.” He smirks and my cheeks instantly heat under his gaze.
“Oh, shut up.” I shoot back, smacking his arm playfully.
The streets are surprisingly busy for a Monday night. This place is usually dead after 7pm, especially on the week nights. But groups of people spill out of the bars and restaurants lining the sidewalk, their laughter echoing in the busy street.
A large group of drunk men come stumbling towards us as we walk back towards my apartment, their eyes lingering on me for far longer than they should.
I’m used to this, it’s just another perk of being a woman, not, but from beside me, Conor turns rigid.
His jaw is tight and his hands ball into fists at his sides.
Without thinking, I reach my hand out to his, interlocking our fingers and give him a reassuring squeeze.
He looks down at our joined hands before lifting his gaze to mine.
The anger in his expression softens instantly and he keeps his eyes trained on me instead of the men who are getting closer to us.
“What was that for?” He asks me quietly.