Page 52 of A Dark Fall
I smile and take another bite of my ravioli. He starts eating again, but then he stops and reaches over to refill my wineglass.
“Not too much,” I say. “School night and all.”
He fills my glass up, stopping below halfway. I like that he didn’t just go ahead and fill it up anyway despite what I said. Most people would have.Benwould have.
“What about your parents—are you close?”
He tenses, his gaze darkening before he reaches to take a long gulp of his beer. “No.”
Again, the look on his face tells me not to push it. So, I don’t. No relationship with his parents or his brother. It should maybe send an alarm bell of some kind ringing through me, but it doesn’t. Some people don’t have great relationships with their families.
“Well, my sister lives in California now with her husband, so I don’t see her as often as I’d like, which is sad, but we Skype every week. When she’s not out living her best life running along the beach with her dogs and doing Pilates with Malibu housewives.” I give a grunt of disgust, and Jake smiles, the tension easing off his shoulders visibly.
“But your brother is here?”
I nod. “He lives in London, and we see each other a lot. Too much, probably.” I widen my eyes playfully. “But we do a family vacation every year to France. My parents have a house there.”
“That mean you speak French?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I get by,” I say shyly. I speak French well. Some Russian too. But he never asked that, so I don’t mention it.
“Would you say something in French if I asked you to?”
“I’m not a performing monkey, so no.”
He laughs softly, and it’s the most gorgeous thing. His eyes crinkle gently at the corners, and his entire face seems to transform. Beautiful and light. Jesus, he really is a stunning man. Unfairly so.
“So, what does your brother do?”
I give him a frown. “Come on, we’ve spoken enough about me. I want to know something about you.Besideswhat I already know, that is.”
He shifts in his chair and puts down his fork, wiping his mouth with his napkin. His plate is completely cleared. Every morsel is gone.
“I’m not that interesting, baby.” He shrugs.
“So modest.” I sigh. “Anyway, surely it’s up to me to decide whether I’m interested. And since I’m here on a school night, against my better judgment, that means I am. Interested.” I lean forward.
He watches me for a long moment before leaning forward too. Our faces are close enough now that I can see the white of the small scar across his eyebrow. His scent overcomes me in waves, and I’m helpless not to inhale deep.
“I’m flattered you’re interested, Alex. That you’re here with me on a school night, against your better judgment. But there’s nothing worth knowing that you don’t already know.” I catch the side of his mouth pull down slightly as he says this.
I frown. “Christ, you don’t enjoy talking about yourself at all, do you? I never imagined when I first met you, you’d be a guy who wouldn’t like talking about himself.” I say it in a way I hope sounds playful, not insulting. He doesn’t look insulted. “Only, how do we get to know each other in that case?” I lift my glass and take a sip of my wine.
His eyes soften, and he smiles a suggestive smile. “See, this is where I’d say we already know each other pretty fucking well ...” I feel his leg rub against mine under the table. He’s trying to distract me again.
“That’s not an answer either though, is it?”
A twist of irritation—I think—flares in his eyes, and he sits back. Sighs. “Let’s say I’m not a big sharer or talker, yeah?”
I think this is almost funny because when he’s in bed, he is the most sharing, talkative person I know.
“But I’m a good listener, so it all balances out in the end, I guess.”
I ponder this for a moment. Being a good listener certainly isn’t a terrible quality in a partner. I mean,potential partner. An idea pops into my head.
“Let’s ... Why don’t we try something?”
He looks at me warily, and I sit back too, resting more comfortably against the leather booth. Oh, this might work. Might even be fun.