“Sorry,” I mutter.
“For what?” Dorian asks quizzically, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He knows why I am apologizing yet he wants to hear me say it. He wants me to admit my weakness.
“I thought…,” I begin timidly. I clear my cracking voice and pull my shoulders back, looking Dorian straight in the eye. “I thought you wanted me to leave. I was just having a girl moment,” I say shaking my head, as if to reject the notion.
“Well you are a girl, correct?” Dorian looks amused at my guffaw and my carnal instinct is telling me to smack that smug look right off his beautiful face. I opt to tease him instead.
“Oh, that and so much more,” I say seductively, with hooded eyes, channeling my inner sex kitten. Dorian instinctively licks his lips. I expect him to push me back down on the couch but instead he grabs my hand, leading me out of his suite and to the elevator.
The sounds of live music lure us to the Tavern and we are instantly greeted by a friendly hostess. She greets Dorian by his first name casually, even asking him a few questions about the opening of the salon as she leads us to our cozy, intimate table. Hmmmm. So Dorian has been friendly with her. How friendly, is the question. I quickly dismiss the thought, reminding myself that I, in fact, am not his girlfriend and have no right to ask him. Once we’re seated, the hostess, who Dorian calls Tiffany, hands us our menus and leaves us with a warm smile.
“How very informal of you...seems like you're pretty casual with the staff here,” I smirk. Dorian raises a curious eyebrow at me and I realize that my comment has come out much more snarky than I intended. He looks a bit offended. I perk up into a smile and decide to change my tactics. “So you must eat here often. Is the food as good as the music?” A band is playing the smooth sounds of a jazz piece, emitting a sultry, sexy vibe.
“Eating in the suite gets old, so when I do get a chance to enjoy a meal, I like to come here. Much more informal than some of the other restaurants.”
Crap. So I have offended him. I engross myself in the menu to avoid eye contact. Let’s hope I’m able to eat anything seeing as I keep putting my foot in my mouth.
Dorian and I spend a few quiet minutes scanning the menu though I am mentally cursing myself the entire time. Maybe he’ll see I really am too crass and immature to deal with and he’ll dump me before I embarrass him further. The thought causes a clenching ache in my chest and I stifle an uneasy gasp. By the time our waiter arrives for our drink orders, I’m unprepared and stammering.
“Oh hi, uh…I’ll, um…,” I begin.
Luckily Dorian swoops in and saves me, ordering bottles of wine and sparkling water before I really make a fool of myself. I am red-faced and mortified once the waiter leaves to retrieve our beverages.
“Thanks,” I mutter. Shit. I’ve got to get it together. I’m not used to caring this much about what someone, especially a guy, thinks of me. It makes me feel weak, and I don’t like it one bit.
“This place has excellent steak and seafood. Would you like me to order for you?” Dorian asks, a reassuring smile lighting his gentle eyes. He knows he’s totally unraveled me and now he pities me. Ha!
“Please,” is all I can seem to choke out.
When our server returns with the wine and water, Dorian turns to him and orders our entrees. I’m so preoccupied with my own conflicted feelings that I can hardly make out what he’s saying, not that I have much of an appetite anymore.
“Something wrong?” Dorian asks after a few strained moments of silence.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” So am I being honest with him? Yes. What else do I have to lose? “I just don’t like feeling so self-conscious. You make me so…uneasy.” I take a hearty sip of wine to reduce my anxiety.
“I do?” He sounds surprised.
“Not intentionally, at least I don’t think so,” I shrug. “I, uh, care too much. About what you think of me.” There. The cards are on the table. He knows that my affections go beyond just mind-numbing sex. I care. The exact thing I swore I wouldn't- I couldn't- do. I can't afford to.
“So because you care, it makes you uneasy?” I can see the makings of a smirk creeping onto his lips. Great, he finds me amusing.
“More or less.” I sigh and shake my head.
“Why does that bother you?” Dorian looks at me inquiringly as if I am some rare breed of girl.
“Because it’s not a feeling I’m used to. Feeling so...vulnerable,” I cringe.
"And that's a bad thing?" He folds his hands in front of him and rests his chin on them, gazing at me intently.