“Thank you very much,” the waitress said, snapping the menus up and cradling them to her chest. She looked quite smart in her pressed pants and crisp collared white shirt. “I’ll have your wine brought out in a moment, followed by the appetizers.”
“Thank you.” Eliza tugged at her dress self-consciously, glad to be hidden beneath the table and in the somewhat darker booth. She could have dressed up a little more for the evening, but then again, Nash was wearing jeans and t-shirt, so it wasn’t all bad. Nibbling her lower lip, she glanced across the table at her dinner date, a little upset to see that he was still wearing the same scowl he’d donned when she first told him instead of going back to her apartment for a night of rough and amazing sex, she’d made dinner reservations instead.
“This place is cheaper than I thought it’d be,” he noted after a long, somewhat tense moment. Eliza let out a soft sigh when he leaned back against the clean leather backrest. It reflected the light of the candle in the middle of the table, the flame’s orange hue flickering on the matte surface.
“Thank you for agreeing to come,” she said, then swallowed hard. Her hands were wracked with a cold, nervous sweat, her stomach in so many knots that she was surprised she’d even ordered anything. The pasta dish sounded delicious in theory, but given the way she was feeling, there was no guarantee she’d have more than a few bites. “I wanted to go out tonight so we could talk.”
“And we can’t talk in your apartment?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone lacking its usual playfulness. Hell, it even lacked the authoritative quality that made her shiver, which wasn’t a good sign. Eliza shook her head.
“I wanted it to be done…differently,” she told him, a slight tremor in her voice. “I wanted…I want us to be done differently.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression darkening. “Eliza—”
“I know you don’t do relationships,” she said, adding air quotes around do for emphasis, “but things are changing between us and you can’t deny that. I care about you. A lot. And I think you care about me, too.”
She loved him, actually. Over these last few months, she’d fallen head-over-heels, but she refused to admit it aloud. Guys always joked about virgins getting attached, and she didn’t want Nash to think that just because he was the first guy to sleep with her that she was clinging to him for dear life. She’d fallen for him, as a person, with all the added baggage that she knew about him and his preferences. She owed it to herself to put her foot down again.
“Eliza, I do care about you, but—”
“Then we’re going to explore this relationship,” Eliza said firmly, leaving no room for arguments. He could walk away at any point, and while it would devastate her, the logical side of her brain knew that in the long run it would be better to be with a man who actually wanted to date her rather than just screw her a few nights a week. “We have a connection that I’ve never felt with anyone before, and it’s not because I was a virgin.”
She pressed her lips together, only realizing the waitress had reappeared with their wine just as she said virgin. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she sat back in the booth, letting Nash handle the sample testing, and waited until the wine was poured and the waitress had fled.
“So is this an ultimatum?” he asked, his tone light as he brought his wine glass to his lips and took a quick sip. The noise level in the restaurant had increased since they sat down some twenty minutes earlier, and she preferred it that way. Tucked away in their booth, she felt safe to talk to him, like no one else in the world could see or hear them.
“It’s not an ultimatum,” Eliza told him. “It’s a conversation about what I want and what I think you would like if you gave it a chance. You can of course walk away. I’m not going to force you to be with me.”
“You’d never have to do that…” He set the wine glass down and sighed heavily again, his eyes everywhere but her face. “Eliza, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“And I want to learn it. All of it.” Something swelled within her chest suddenly—something like hope. “I don’t care what it is. I want you just as you are.”
“You should care,” he muttered, then clenched his teeth so his jaw flared for a moment. “It may not be what you want once you learn.”
“Then I’ll decide that then.” She reached across the table and grabbed his arm, latching her hand to it before he could pull it away. “Please.” Their eyes met. “Just let me decide for myself. I…” Swallowing hard, she quieted herself, refusing to let the L-word slip. “We’re basically in a relationship now, whether you want to label it or not. All I’m asking is that we both acknowledge it and start moving forward.”
He was quiet for a long while after that, perhaps lost in thought, perhaps trying to find the words to shoot her down. While he was silent, Eliza waited, not prodding or pushing. Playing on her phone, actually, just to give him the privacy he needed. By the time their appetizer arrived—spinach dip with grilled flatbread—he grabbed her hand and wrapped both of his around it.
“Fine,” Nash said, giving her hand a little squeeze. “Let’s…try something. I do care for you, and I don’t want to let you go, but we have to move slowly.”
“Whatever pace you’re comfortable with,” she insisted, nodding her head, unable to keep the silly grin on her face. Without another word, they both leaned across the table and shared a quick, hard kiss, then dug into the start of their meal, moving on from the conversation seamlessly.
All the while, at the back of Eliza’s mind, she couldn’t help but feel like this was where their love story finally began.