“So what do you plan to do after you receive your degree in May?” Dorian asks.
“Really, I have no idea,” I reply, finishing the last mussel on my appetizer plate.
“No plans to head to a 4 year university to get your Bachelor’s?”
“That would be the most logical thing but I really don’t have the desire to. Then again, I definitely don’t want to be a sales clerk for much longer.” I put my napkin down and sigh. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea what I want to do with my life.”
“Really? What’s your major?” he asks.
My mouth twists into an uncomfortable grimace. “Undecided.” About just about everything, that is.
“Well, what are you passionate about?” Hmmm, good question.
“Honestly?” I give him a fake smile to mask my shame. “Nothing. I’ve never been great at anything in school. Never was a cheerleader or even an athlete. The only thing I really excelled at was martial arts but that was some years ago.” Dorian looks at me quizzically. “Oh yeah, I was known for being a bit of a bad ass,” I snicker, nervously.
My rough and tumble ways are probably a direct opposite, if not insult, to Dorian’s cool and polished demeanor. Even with his bad boy good looks, I can tell he comes from a refined background. Might as well lay all the cards on the table now.
“You? Really?” He eyes assess the length of my body, causing me to squirm.
“Yeah,” I shrug sheepishly. “I never was one of those girls that wanted to be a princess or a ballerina. A while ago, I really wanted to enlist in the Marine Corps. Then ultimately, try to join the CIA. But it was just a crazy dream.” I chuckle nervously, shaking my head at my absurdity.
“It’s just…I never wanted to be some dainty damsel in distress. I never wanted to be rescued. I've never been that girl. I wanted to be the one kickin’ ass and taking names. I wanted to be the hero, you know.” I can’t believe I’m divulging such an outlandish idea to him but something about Dorian puts me oddly at ease. Like I’ve known him for years. I had never told anyone my career goals, not even Jared.
Dorian licks his lips before they spread into a sexy half smile. “I can understand that. Pretty damn sexy if you ask me.” Our server suddenly appears to collect our dirty dishes and hurriedly rushes away, no doubt feeling the sexual static between us. I take a long sip of wine to wash down my anxiety. I’m thankful when Dorian signals to our server for a refill.
“Well, that was a long time ago. I promise I’m a good girl now,” I say, giving him my best naughty smirk.
“Pity,” he retorts, his eyes flashing arctic blue. “That could’ve been fun. But I’m sure you’ve still got some bad girl in you. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.” He leans in closer and I can almost feel the coolness of his breath. I hold my own breath in expectation.
“Excusez-moi,” the polite waitress nervously interrupts with our meals. She sets them in front of us and asks if there is anything else we need. Dorian and I both answer with a shake of our heads and she scampers towards her other patrons.
I look down at my huge sandwich and my eyes grow wide. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish this. Dorian’s perfectly dressed salad seems more practical. “Please tell me you’ll take half of this,” I chuckle. It looks as if our orders have gotten switched around.
Noting the irony, Dorian snickers and says, “I’ll tell you what. Only if you share some of this with me.”
“Deal!” I reply and begin to portion him more than half of the mountain of delicate meats, cheeses and olive salad.
We enjoy our meal with easy chatter and chuckles, enjoying the delicious cuisine and refreshing wine. I find myself giggling at every joke and hanging onto every word that passes Dorian’s lips, which are pretty damn hard to take my eyes off of. I imagine tasting those lips again, nibbling them, feeling them against my skin, between my thighs…
“I hope you’ve left room for dessert,” Dorian remarks breaking me from my sinful thoughts.
“Dessert?!” I exclaim. “I can hardly breathe!”
“Oh come on, this place is actually best known for their desserts. Award-winning, I hear.” Right on cue our server scoops up our empty plates and places a dessert menu on the table. I can see why they’re known for their sweets; it’s as long as their regular menu.
We agree to go with the Fresh Fruit Tart, as long as I promise to try the Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake with him another time. It gives me hope and warms my heart that there could actually be a future for us. Then the looming remembrance of my murderous stalker rips that hope in two. The thought causes me to shiver and I give him a sorrowful tight-lipped grin. He looks at me with a question in his eyes but before he can ask me what’s wrong, our server returns with our dessert. The bright berries and flaky butter pastry look like a page out of Food & Wine magazine.