just eat around the peppers and onions, and tomatoes… and zucchini.”
I laughed and she looked at me, trying to hide the small smile on her lips with her cloth napkin. “Ivy, that’s practically everything on your plate. Why would you order that if you don’t like anything in it?”
“I didn’t really read the menu. I just picked something.”
“Why?” I couldn’t imagine someone that claimed to be a picky eater not reading what was in the meal. I knew that she could read by the countless number of books her mind had devoured.
She shrugged and the dismissive motion told me she didn’t want to answer me. I placed my silverware down on my plate and looked at her, waiting until her eyes met mine.
“No one has ever taken me out to dinner before,” she answered meekly.
“I took you out the other night.”
“That doesn’t count. I didn’t order anything and it wasn’t like this. This is how I would picture a date if I ever went on one, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to order and I was nervous. So I picked something without looking. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your money but I tried to pick the most inexpensive thing.”
The smile fell from my lips and without thought, my hand moved to hers, curling around her hand that rested on top of the table. I wasn’t sure any longer if she avoided the food because of a disorder, or if she really was telling me the truth. There was an innocence to her that called to me, that made me want to do something. She was almost child-like and I wasn’t sure how to approach it.
“Ivy, don’t apologize. We can have them bring you something else that you like.”
“That’s really not necessary. I’ll be okay.”
I began cutting away pieces of my steak as she continued to play with the food in front of her. “Here, eat this,” I offered as I moved food from my plate onto hers. “I won’t eat it all and what kind of man would I be if I let my date leave dinner hungry?”
She shook her head again, about to protest, but I stopped her by spearing a piece of meat with my fork and bringing it to her lips. Once she realized I wasn’t going to give up, she opened her mouth and took the food I offered. I felt my pants grow tight as I watched her lips close around my fork and take the piece of juicy meat. She hummed as she chewed on the piece of steak and it took everything in me not to touch her, when that was all I craved to do.
The tension around our table grew tenfold and I needed to find a way out of there desperately. We quickly finished my meal together and I paid the bill in cash, not wanting to waste any more time with a credit card transaction. I grabbed her hand in mine and hurried out of the restaurant.
I wanted to talk in the car, planned on it actually, but she was too quiet. The low music I turned on in the background was needed to keep me from going insane due to the silence. She was stiff in her seat, barely moving on the way back to her apartment.
She was surprised when I turned the car off after parking in front of her building. Her head jerked to me as I climbed out of the car and went to her side, opening her door to let her out.
“What are you doing?” she asked nervously.
I needed to know if she truly lived there or not, but didn’t dare come right out and ask her. So the next best thing was to make something up that would be both believable and comfortable at the same time.
“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t take you to your front door?”
“I thought you said this wasn’t a date?” she argued.
“And you said this was how you’d picture a date if you went on one. So I’m showing you what it would be like if it were a date. Don’t argue with me, Ivy. Let me take you to your door.”
She accepted my hand and let me pull her from the car. I didn’t let go and I wasn’t sure why. She no longer fidgeted endlessly while I held her hand, either. I didn’t need to hold hands with her as we walked up the
I laughed and she looked at me, trying to hide the small smile on her lips with her cloth napkin. “Ivy, that’s practically everything on your plate. Why would you order that if you don’t like anything in it?”
“I didn’t really read the menu. I just picked something.”
“Why?” I couldn’t imagine someone that claimed to be a picky eater not reading what was in the meal. I knew that she could read by the countless number of books her mind had devoured.
She shrugged and the dismissive motion told me she didn’t want to answer me. I placed my silverware down on my plate and looked at her, waiting until her eyes met mine.
“No one has ever taken me out to dinner before,” she answered meekly.
“I took you out the other night.”
“That doesn’t count. I didn’t order anything and it wasn’t like this. This is how I would picture a date if I ever went on one, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to order and I was nervous. So I picked something without looking. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your money but I tried to pick the most inexpensive thing.”
The smile fell from my lips and without thought, my hand moved to hers, curling around her hand that rested on top of the table. I wasn’t sure any longer if she avoided the food because of a disorder, or if she really was telling me the truth. There was an innocence to her that called to me, that made me want to do something. She was almost child-like and I wasn’t sure how to approach it.
“Ivy, don’t apologize. We can have them bring you something else that you like.”
“That’s really not necessary. I’ll be okay.”
I began cutting away pieces of my steak as she continued to play with the food in front of her. “Here, eat this,” I offered as I moved food from my plate onto hers. “I won’t eat it all and what kind of man would I be if I let my date leave dinner hungry?”
She shook her head again, about to protest, but I stopped her by spearing a piece of meat with my fork and bringing it to her lips. Once she realized I wasn’t going to give up, she opened her mouth and took the food I offered. I felt my pants grow tight as I watched her lips close around my fork and take the piece of juicy meat. She hummed as she chewed on the piece of steak and it took everything in me not to touch her, when that was all I craved to do.
The tension around our table grew tenfold and I needed to find a way out of there desperately. We quickly finished my meal together and I paid the bill in cash, not wanting to waste any more time with a credit card transaction. I grabbed her hand in mine and hurried out of the restaurant.
I wanted to talk in the car, planned on it actually, but she was too quiet. The low music I turned on in the background was needed to keep me from going insane due to the silence. She was stiff in her seat, barely moving on the way back to her apartment.
She was surprised when I turned the car off after parking in front of her building. Her head jerked to me as I climbed out of the car and went to her side, opening her door to let her out.
“What are you doing?” she asked nervously.
I needed to know if she truly lived there or not, but didn’t dare come right out and ask her. So the next best thing was to make something up that would be both believable and comfortable at the same time.
“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t take you to your front door?”
“I thought you said this wasn’t a date?” she argued.
“And you said this was how you’d picture a date if you went on one. So I’m showing you what it would be like if it were a date. Don’t argue with me, Ivy. Let me take you to your door.”
She accepted my hand and let me pull her from the car. I didn’t let go and I wasn’t sure why. She no longer fidgeted endlessly while I held her hand, either. I didn’t need to hold hands with her as we walked up the
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