***
When the sun went down, Skylar unfolded herself from my sofa and went to my kitchen, where she began gathering all the ingredients to prepare whatever it was she was planning on cooking. I took a seat at one of the barstools at my counter and watched her as she began peeling yams. I watched the way the muscles in her back shifted under her tank top, and the way a thin strip of bare skin showed at the hem of her shirt and above the waistband of her skirt. It was hard to look away, and I found myself feeling extremely lucky to be enjoying the company of a woman like her.
“So, tell me,” Skylar said, not turning to look at me as she began cutting the yams into small pieces. “What is one of your biggest pet peeves?”
We had covered a variety of topics over the afternoon, and now, conversation had become much more comfortable and playful. We were getting to know the smaller intricacies of one another.
“Biggest pet peeve?” I pondered, scratching my chin. I realized I needed to shave. Stubble tickled my fingertips. “Honestly, people who chew with their mouths open. I can’t stand it. I can’t even eat if someone at the table is flapping their mouth and showing me their steak and lobster.”
Skylar laughed, and the sound was bubbly and impulsive. I loved it. She slid the pan of yams, sprinkled with something I couldn’t decipher, into my oven and turned to me, her lower back resting against the kitchen counter. “That is gross,” she agreed.
“What about you?”
“People who are rude to customer service employees. It has ruined many of my friendships. I can’t socialize with someone who loses their temper because the kitchen accidentally put ketchup on their burger, you know?”
I laughed and nodded. “I do know. High maintenance, entitled people are the worst.”
“Especially if they also happen to chew with their mouth open,” Skylar added before picking up her empty wine glass and wiggling it at me.
I hopped off my stool and grabbed the open white wine from the fridge to fill her glass for her.
“Thank you,” she said as I topped off my own.
“You are welcome,” I said, peering around at all the food she had prepared.
Yams were baking in the oven. A tossed salad was already prepared in one of my mixing bowls on the counter. Colorful vegetables were in a pan on the stove, ready to be fried, and prawns were in another pan, sprinkled in some sort of seasoning and butter.
“You didn’t need to do all this,” I said. “I was already totally impressed with you without knowing you were such a chef.”
“A chef?” She giggled and shook her head. “No, I just like cooking. It’s fun. Playing with flavors and stuff. Do you ever cook?”
“Sometimes, but not like this. This is a production.”
“No, it’s not,” she said. “Maybe one day I can show you what a real production looks like.”
My head spun at the idea of her being able to prepare something more elaborate than this. “You surprise me at every turn, Skylar,” I said.
We sat down to dinner roughly a half hour later. My plate was more colorful than any meal I had ever had, and it smelled heavenly. We dug in together, and I expressed nearly a dozen times how good it was, and went back to the kitchen for seconds. We chatted about anything and everything, and before I knew it, the time was well past eleven.
We had indulged in two bottles of wine over the course of the evening, and I knew I would have to call a car to take her back to the hotel.
“It’s getting late,” I said. “Your sister is probably going to be wondering where you are. I can have a driver here in about fifteen minutes, and I’ll go with you back to The Citrine. I want to make sure you get back to your room.”
Skylar had her hand on the stem of her wine glass, and as she turned it in a slow circle, she looked up at me. “I don’t…” She paused, licked her lips, and nodded curtly to herself as if she had just come to a decision. “I don’t think I want to go back to the hotel tonight.”
I froze with my wine halfway to my lips.
She blushed and looked at her lap. “I want to stay here with you, Greyson.”
I wanted the same thing. Holy hell, did I want the same thing. “You’re more than welcome to stay,” I said, putting my wine down without taking a drink. “Seriously, Skylar. I would love for you to stay.”
She looked back up at me, and this time, she looked even more nervous than she had seconds ago. Her hands were wringing her skirt in her lap, and there were creases in her forehead. She bit her bottom lip in that way that made my heart try to beat out of my chest. I leaned toward her and rested my hand on hers to calm her nerves. She stopped wringing her skirt.
“I need to tell you something first,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, my hand still closed over hers.
She wouldn’t meet my eye. She looked everywhere but at me—the table, her plate, her feet, and the floor. Finally, when she was staring out the window at the lights of Boulder City down below, she opened her mouth to speak.
“I haven’t done this before,” she said quietly.
“Done what before?” I asked. Had she never stayed at a man’s house before?
“I haven’t had sex,” she said, her eyes finally meeting mine. “I’m a virgin.”
My mind reeled at the confession, and several questions swirled to the surface. Was I worthy of her giving away her virginity? Why was she choosing me? Was I prepared to throw myself into such an intense situation with a girl I cared for more than I could explain?
She pulled her hands out from under mine. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a little weird, and awkward, and—”
“It’s not weird,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m just a little surprised you would want me to be the one you chose for this. If you’ve waited this long…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.
“I wasn’t waiting for marriage. I was waiting to meet someone I trusted. Someone who made me feel special and appreciated just for being myself. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who’s done that. And I want to share this with you. I want it to be you.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
My question held a lot of weight. It took all of my willpower not to stand, pull her to her feet, and kiss her right then and there. If she said she was sure, I was going to take her word for it.
She nodded. “I am.”