by Lyla Grace
My mind races thinking about Becca and Livie and the possibility of what may have happened. But when my eyes fall on Livie, the sight of her causes any thoughts not of this moment to disappear. The woman is beautiful on a bad day, and on a good day she is exquisite. But today…today she is simply radiant, standing in front of me in this light-blue V-neck chiffon shift dress, the sleeves slit open exposing her arms. I mentally kick myself for being able to describe a damn dress so well; though I guess that’s what having a very fashion-forward mother will do to you. Livie and I stand there staring at each other. And if I thought I was nervous, Livie looks a million times worse, which somehow puts me slightly at ease.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her.
She fidgets with her dress. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I was overdressed or not….” Her sentence trails off.
“You look perfect. And as far as tonight goes, that’s a surprise.” I extend my hand to her and lead her to my car.
“I hate surprises,” she says with a smile.
“Funny, because I seem to surprise you a lot and yet you keep me around,” I reply, trying to lighten the mood. But she still seems nervous, and that’s the last thing I want. I need her to realize that all the things she is so terrified of have already been there. This date, it’s just a formality. Whether she likes it or not, by all definitions of the word…we are already dating. An idea pops into my head. It’s worked before, so I hope to hell that it brings my sweet Livie out of this funk.
“Truth or Dare?” I ask.
“This again?” she asks.
“Hey, you started it. Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” she answers hesitantly.
“What’s wrong?”
She inhales sharply. “I am so nervous.”
“Any particular reason why?” She shakes her head no. “Okay, my turn.”
She cocks her head to the side. Finally she gives in, “Truth or Dare.” I answer with a very confident truth.
Before I allow her to ask a question though, I just rattle off my truth. “I’m nervous too. Nervous that tonight won’t go well, nervous that I won’t get the girl, and mostly I’m nervous because I like you so damn much, Livie, that I just want to make tonight perfect for you. Because you deserve that much.”
That beautiful smile that catches my heart every time returns to her face. Confidence, beauty--she has it all. I just wish that she could see it sometimes.
“Dare,” she says, because apparently we aren’t playing this game by the rules anymore.
“Kiss me,” I demand. Her arms wrap around my neck and pull me down to her.
“About damn time,” she laughs, just before her lips cover mine.
We end the kiss, and I give her a quick wink before I help her into the car. Thankfully once we get moving, things seem back to normal. She tells me about her job, a new endeavor that she is working on. We laugh about Michael’s being so grateful to me for the introduction to the waitress.
When we arrive at our destination, I pull into a dimly lit alley. I can see her eyes widen, out of the corner of my eye.
“Um, Landon, I’m pretty easygoing, but dinner in an alley is even a little below my standards.”
I laugh, because little does she know that while we may be in an alley, it is the alley of the best restaurant in the city. Donatella’s is a small, fancy Italian restaurant on the east side of the city. The food is amazing, and the owner is even better. My family has been frequenting the restaurant for as long as I can remember, and Donatella herself has become a close family friend. On nights when the game or the fame is a little too much and I need a good meal and even better conversation, I make my way down here, through the back alley into the small kitchen where Donatella always whips me up something amazing and we sit and chat.
It’s amazing that this sweet old woman, who has to be at least in her mid-eighties, though she would never admit it, still does the majority of the cooking herself. When I thought of where I could take Livie tonight, Donatella’s seemed the perfect spot. I need tonight to be special. I need to take her someplace that can be ours alone, someplace that is special to me, to let her know how much I think of her. So, a quick call to Donatella, and here we are.
I knock on the back door to the restaurant and the short, heavyset Italian woman pulls me in for a hug upon sight. “Landon, so good to see you. And who do we have here?” She is looking Livie up and down much like a mother would.
“Donatella, this is Livie,” I introduce.
“You didn’t tell me she was so beautiful,” Donatella compliments. “Come in, come in,” she says as she ushers us inside. She takes Livie’s hand, and they start to chat as we make our way to the small room where Donatella and I have had many dinners and even more conversations.
The room is far from spectacular. A few old paintings of Donatella’s village in Italy hang on the wall. In the center of the room is a small round table covered in a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, a glowing candle in the center. Donatella hands each of us a glass of wine before hurrying out of the room to work on dinner.
“I’m speechless,” Livie says.
“I guess there is a first time for everything.” My joke earns me an elbow to the ribs.
“This is wonderful. Thank you.”
I shrug as though the gesture was nothing. And really, it wasn’t. If I thought it would make her happy, I would have flown her to Italy. But after she gave a little piece of herself to me, I wanted to give something back--the one place in this town when all the hustle and bustle is deafening, calms the chaos. “Anything for you.” She smiles at me, and I can’t help but become entranced with her. It’s amazing what making her happy does to me. Just her smile makes me feel complete.
Antonio enters the room with salad and breadsticks in tow. He shakes my hand after placing them down, nods at Livie, and rushes out of the room on what I can only assume are Donatella’s orders.
“So, Stud, how did you manage this?” Livie asks as she takes a bite of her garlic bread.
I tell her about our family dinners here, how my mom befriended Donatella. I explained to her that when I first moved to the city on my own, I found myself a bit homesick the night before a big game and came to see Donatella and how she sat and talked to me all evening. From that point forward we had become very close; she looked at me like her surrogate son. While I wish I could make a weekly meal with her, unfortunately that’s not always in the cards with my schedule, but I do make sure I check in with her at least once a month.
Before long, Donatella returns with a large plate of lasagna. Livie’s eyes widen as she places the dish in front of us. The restaurant and Donatella herself are both famous for their lasagna, which worked out perfectly, as I remember Livie mentioning it is a favorite of hers. Donatella was so excited when I asked her to make it for us.
“Try, try,” Donatella urges Livie, seeking out her approval. Livie smiles at me and takes a bite. She slowly retracts the fork from her mouth, savoring the flavor and turning me on in one innocent motion. I watch as her eyes slowly flutter closed, just like they do when I kiss her.
“Oh my God, this is amazing.” Donatella looks pleased at her praise and smiles. She begins to bid us adieu when Livie stops her. “You went to all this trouble--won’t you join us? Please?”
I love the fact that she asks and that she wants to learn about this part of my life, but I am not going to lie. It puts a bit of a damper on the romantic portion of the evening. Livie’s invitation is more than enough for Donatella. She pulls up a chair and joins us at the table, regaling Livie with stories of how she met my family and me, and the night that I taught her how to play poker, and of course how she has beaten me every hand since.
“You must be very special to Landon if he brought you here,” Donatella states before she clears the table and excuses herself.
“She’s wonderful,” Livie says. “And she seems to think the world of you.”
“I hope so. I think the world of her,” I te
ll her.
Our conversation flows, much like it did when we were in Mexico. It was relaxed and light, but looking deep into her eyes, I could still see that something was off.
“Something on your mind?” I probe.
She begins to say no, but stops herself. “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it right now, if that’s okay? I just want to enjoy our evening.”
I nod in agreement. “Okay, but I’m here if you need me.”
“I know; thank you,” she says just as Donatella returns with dessert in hand. “No way, I can’t eat another bite. I’m stuffed.” Livie pushes away from the table.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have had that second piece of lasagna,” I tease.
“But it was sooo good.”
“Come on, one bite,” I taunt her with the tiramisù. I wave the fork in her face. “You will break her heart if you don’t. You wouldn’t want to do that to a little old lady, would you?”
“Nice, Sutton, really nice.” She wraps those gorgeous lips around my fork, and I can’t help but wish it was my cock. A moan escapes her as she tastes the sweet dessert. “Okay, just one more bite,” she concedes. I feed her one more bite before devouring the rest of it myself.
We give Donatella hugs as we exit, along with promises that we will return. I take Livie’s hand in mine as we make our way back to my car. “Good date so far?” I ask her. She nods in agreement, but I can see a mischievous glint in her eye. “What?”
“How about a make-out session in the back of the car?” she asks.
“Don’t tempt me,” I reply as I tug her close. “I promise there will be plenty of time for kissing and anything else the lady wants. Trust me. Now, I know you hate surprises….”
“Just as much as you love giving them to me,” she teases.
I pull a blindfold out of my pocket. The look on her face is priceless. Eyes wide, mouth agape. “Don’t you trust me, Livie?”
She takes in a deep breath and exhales. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, close your eyes.” After I cover her eyes, I allow my fingers to run down her arms. “I promise, you’ll enjoy it.” I press my lips to her exposed shoulder.
We arrive at our destination, and as much as I would love to keep her blindfolded and have my way with her…I digress and remove the blindfold, silently hoping that we can make use of it later. But, for now…for now, we make things magical. The rooftop of my building is lit in white twinkling lights. A chilled bottle of champagne sits on a table between two ridiculously comfy lounge chairs. To top it off, I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful night if I had ordered it. The sky is dark and clear, and you can practically see every star in our little part of the universe. The movie screen is still black, her favorite movie, Goodfellas, ready to play at the click of a button.
Unable to see her face from my position, I am eagerly awaiting some type of response from her. “Oh Landon. This is….” Her words trail off as she turns to face me. Eyes welled with tears, a smile on her face, she’s happy. “Thank you.”
Hand in hand, I lead her over to the chairs. Luckily for me, they are oversized and very comfy, since Livie has decided to curl up with me on my seat. As the movie begins, she turns to me. “You really thought of everything. How are you ever going to top this for our second date?”
“Is there going to be a second date?” I inquire.
Her eyes penetrate me; her hand caresses my face. The moment is so tender, so unexpected, so not Livie that I just hold still, not wanting to disrupt her. “There will always be a next time with us.” Her lips softly brush mine, and I can feel her lose herself to me. Maybe not fully, and God knows she isn’t going to make this easy, I am sure, but in this moment she is mine. And I fully intend on keeping her there.
When the movie ends, we remain on the lounge chair, wrapped up in each other, slow, lazy kisses connecting us. It’s a first for us. There is no neediness, no desperation. We lie there, enjoying each other, this night, this connection that she is no longer denying. Maybe some guys wouldn’t be okay with that, maybe they would be looking for the end game…but not me, not tonight. Somehow, though it usually isn’t, just touching her and kissing her is enough for me.
Until her phone starts ringing, and keeps on ringing. After a couple minutes of the incessant noise, Livie picks up her phone. “Holy shit, it’s 4 a.m.,” she exclaims. “It’s Becca. I have to get this.”
I can hear Becca yelling through the phone. Something about a text, being worried, and that I am in trouble. I laugh a little, but Becca has no idea how right she is. She concludes her conversation by saying she is in good hands. Damn right she is. Livie begins rushing around, grabbing her things. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t realize how late it was.” I try to stop her, but she continues on her mission for her other shoe.
“Livie!” I shout. Her head whips in my direction. “Stay with me tonight.”
Patiently, I stand in front of her, holding my breath, waiting. I know she has her rules, but to be fair, she broke them that first night in Mexico. She stayed that night. And I need her to stay tonight. Her hesitation is killing me. She doesn’t want the night to end almost as much as I don’t; I can see it in her eyes. I hate that she fights her emotions, that she won’t just accept them. I don’t know how else to get through to her. What else to do or say to…. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Yes?” I ask, needing to make sure I heard her right.
“Yes, I want to stay.”
I tug on her hand and pull her to me, kissing her senseless. There is nothing slow or lazy about this kiss. It is chock full of overzealous excitement because I have to admit, “You had me worried for a second.”
“I had me worried too,” she laughs.
With her hand still in mine, we take a short elevator ride down to my floor. I push the door to my condo open and allow her to enter before me.
“Your place is beautiful--not what I expected at all,” she marvels.
“What, you think I’m as narcissistic as Chase? Have my walls covered in…well, me?”
We both laugh, because we know it’s true. The condo he rented after his divorce is literally decorated in him; his jerseys, his trophies, his photos. It’s like someone threw up Chase all over his damn apartment. Not to say that I am not proud of all my accomplishments, but I don’t think everyone has to look at them every time they enter my home. I keep my narcissistic ways to myself… in my private office.
She slowly makes her way through the rest of the condo, checking for approval whenever she enters a new room, which is adorable. I love watching her take everything in, as if each item she touches magically gives her a little more insight into me. Little does she know that I am an open book--at least to her I am. All she has to do is ask. Well, except about Sarah. That one I would rather keep buried away for both of our sakes.
We stand in the guest room, where I fully intend to have her stay. I mean, this is our first date, after all. Okay, honestly, I just don’t want her to think this whole night was designed to get her into bed. I would hope that by now she would know me better, but….
“Where’s your room?” she asks as she sneaks around me. I nod to the doorway at the end of the hallway. She makes her way down the hall and places her hand on the doorknob, but she pauses before she turns it. “Is it okay?”
“Have at it.”
She gingerly opens the door and walks inside. Her hands delicately trace the edges of the furniture as she makes her way through until she reaches the largest bed that I could find. It’s massive, and if I could have found a bigger one, I would have bought it in a heartbeat. I’m 6’5”, 275 pounds; I need room.
“If these walls could talk,” she giggles as she sits on the bed, her feet dangling. Livie is pretty tall, around 5’9”, but in that bed she looks so tiny. And so damn sexy.
“They would be silent,” I admit, as I make my way toward her.
Her mouth drops open. Obviously I am no virgin, and despite my choir boy reputation, I am far from a saint. What
I am not is stupid. It’s been about two years since I have had anything you could remotely consider a serious relationship. That ended around the same time I bought the condo. Since then, the few women that I have been with have been hook-ups or one-date failures.
“It’s not a good idea to bring a woman I barely know back here. You never know what kind of women you can pick up. And in my position, you can’t be too careful,” I explain. I continue on, telling her about guys who have had stalkers or in the least ex-girlfriends that become obsessive. The last thing I want is to come home to some crazy woman I slept with once waiting on my doorstep.
“But you’re not worried about that with me?”
“Quite the opposite, actually. I am way more afraid of you not coming back then I am you stalking me.” It was meant to be a joke, definitely not a good one. Instantly I regret saying it. I rub my hand over my face. “Liv…” I begin to explain, but am hit in the face with a pillow.
“Low blow, Stud. But a valid point.” She’s smiling. Thank God. “Are you going to come to bed, or what?” She’s on her knees now, sitting back on her heels, her hair falling around her face. Even with kissed swollen lips and exhausted eyes, she looks so damn good there on my bed. And while it was not my intention to get her in it tonight, I can’t say I’m sorry, either. I plan on giving these walls plenty to talk about.
The light shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows later that morning. When I roll over and find the space in the bed next to me empty, I momentarily question whether last night was real or a dream. Based on the empty condom wrappers I step on the minute my feet hit the floor, I realize that it did in fact happen--Livie just bolted. I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked. Despite her previous arguments about me leaving her in Mexico and abandoning her in the storage closet, she still was having a difficult time with the staying part herself. Still, it’s progress, I try to convince myself.
I wipe my hands over my face--who am I trying to kid? We are right back to where we started. I slide my sweats on and head to the kitchen, because I am definitely going to need some coffee after last night, and this morning, and then again a few more times. On the upside, my dick has never been so happy with me.