Page 35 of Your Rule to Break
“Where do we sign up for the next session?” I ask between bites. “You know I'm here as long as I don’t have anything for Cosmos.”
“You want to sign up for cooking classes with me?” Emilie makes her voice small, a mound of pasta on her spoon, waiting to be devoured.
I'm chewing some of the best pasta I've ever eaten. Fuck, this is so good. The cheese paste was difficult but worth it.
“Why wouldn’t I? This was so fun. Didn't you have a good time?” I ask her, now questioning if it’s just me who would do this again.
Typically, I’m pretty sure of other people. Sometimes, Emilie makes me scratch my head. Is she too good at playing into the fake relationship? Is she not having as much fun as I am? Does she think about me the way I think about her when we’re not together?
“I’d love to do a cooking class with you. The next time they announce one, it’s you and me, okay?”
You and me. Me and Emilie. I like the sound of that.
“Need those championship hands, I guess. This is so good.” She slurps the end of a noodle from her spoon.
“They’re yours,” I say, dipping a piece of fresh bread in oil courtesy of Chef.
I swear she blushes, or maybe I’m making it up.
“Thank you for inviting me. I like learning new things,” I say, trying to express my gratitude for the last minute invite.
I have a lot of opportunities, but as of late, they’re mostly based on my looks or something to do with football. I like to learn new things and tonight was perfect. Somehow, Emilie made it even better.
“Me too,” she replies, grabbing my hand and giving me a classic Emilie smile. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. I don’t know how someone hasn’t married her yet.
Woah. Maybe I need tocool it on the wine.
“I have a question,” Emilie starts, her eyes struggling to meet mine but her cheek pinched in a smirk. “How did you think of the first date story? When we were with my family.”
I take a deep breath, weighing my options. Tell her the truth or make something up. “Promise not to laugh?” I ask.
She nods.
Doing my best to hide the nervousness in the truth, I say, “It was the first date I would’ve asked you on. The thing I thought you’d say yes to. I knew you’d never turn me down if it meant you got croissants at the end.” I shrug my shoulders and rub my hands together.
I change the topic immediately. “Let me get your photo. This whole thing,” I gesture around the aesthetic space, “is perfect for social media.”
Emilie smiles at me over a massive bite of noodles, and with the warm light and the candles on the table, she looks like a fucking goddess. I take a few photos of her, all of them good.
“Let’s take a selfie,” I suggest. Before I can get up to move to her, she’s already sliding in, sitting on my lap.
Good god. Emilie is sitting on my lap. I pray to the gods of erections that my dick plays nice. I don’t need to make this weird.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
“Fuck yeah. You can sit on my lap anytime.” Man, do I mean it. I want to wrap her up and keep her here.
I put my arm out, and we take a few photos. She kisses me on the cheek for a few seconds, and my heart feels like it could leap out of my chest.
No surprises here. That’s what Emilie does to me.
Which is unfortunate, considering this thing has an end date.
But what if it didn’t have to?
While I’m daydreaming, she almost falls off my lap, and I use my hand to catch her, grabbing her hip, which is actually her ass. Good god, these curves should be against the rules.
“Woah. You good? Are you cheese drunk?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the fact that my hand is on her ass, and she didn’t immediately stand up or slap my hand away.