Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“You look perfect, Olivia. Plus, you don’t have time to change. You’re going to be late if you don’t get going.”
I look at my watch, and sure enough, I have twenty minutes to get to Jason’s apartment. I walk out to my car with Abby and Chloe in tow. We all hug, and only when I’m in my car and alone do the nerves start to hit. Why am I nervous? I never get nervous, and now two days in a row, my stomach has felt like butterflies are swarming inside it.
I get to Jason’s a little early and take my time walking to the apartment buildings. When I knock on his door, I take a deep breath and wait, anticipation building.
“Hey,” he says when he opens the door.
I gulp. “Hey yourself.” I then roll my eyes because can I get any more awkward? But the fact is, even though I was prepared, I wasn’t. Seeing Jason causes a rush to surge through my head, and I’m not thinking clearly.
He holds out his hand, and I take it. He pulls me in but doesn’t step to the side to let me by; instead, he pulls me until we’re standing toe to toe, chest to chest, and he inhales deeply. “You smell beautiful.”
I can’t help it, I slide my hand up his chest and curl it around his neck. “You look very handsome, Jason.”
His body trembles, and he smiles at me. “I like the way you say my name.”
“Jason?” I ask him, not thinking I say it any different from anyone else.
He nods. “Yeah, trust me. It sounds good coming from your lips.”
He releases his hold on me but threads our hands together. “Come on in, I—”
I stop in my tracks. “What is that smell?”
He shakes his head. “Fuck, I hope you think it’s a good smell. Abby said it was your favorite.”
When I don’t answer him, worry creases his face, and he holds a hand up. “I’m sorry. We can go out if you want. I can turn the stove off and we can go.”
I shake my head, holding his hand a little tighter.
I put my free hand over my chest with my palm right over my heart. “You cooked for me? You made me chicken parmigiana?”
He nods, smiling now, and some of the worry leaves his face. “Yeah, with garlic knots and a side salad.”
“You cooked for me. I’ve never had a man cook for me.” It’s not a question this time but a statement.
He leans in. “Really. If you’d rather go out, we can—”
I cut him off. “Are you kidding me? This is perfect, Jason. I love this.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Good. I was thinking dinner and then we can talk.”
I lead him into the kitchen. “It sounds like a perfect night. Do you need a taste tester, because I volunteer as tribute.”
He laughs, and the sound is comforting and soothes me. Maybe too comfortable. How can I feel this way after such a short time? Why do I feel like we just mesh?
I stop in the kitchen, and he points to the table. “Have a seat.”
“I can help,” I insist, but he’s already gently guiding me to the other side of the room. “No way. Part of me cooking dinner for you is serving you too.”
I open my mouth but close it real fast. I don’t even know what to think or feel right now. No one—and I mean no one—has ever made me feel special like this. I watch him walk around the room. He grabs the salad bowl off the counter and brings it to the table, setting it perfectly in the middle. He brings over the basket of bread and puts it down. When he grabs the pan of chicken parmigiana from the oven, I’m holding my breath the whole time, but he does it without any problem at all.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asks when he sets the pan on the table.
“Uh, whatever you’re having.”
He grabs a pitcher from the fridge and pours two tall glasses of what looks like sweet tea. When he brings it over, he sits down in the chair next to me, still smiling.
I shake my head. “You amaze me, Jason.”
He laughs. “Why? Because I didn’t spill anything or make a mess?”
I reach over and grab his hand. He automatically flips it over and threads our fingers together. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it seem like it’s nothing. I was married, remember. My ex couldn’t even bother to get up and get his own drink, let alone bring me one. You just made me a whole meal and served it to me. It may seem small to you, but for me, it really means a lot.”
He nods his head, and his cheeks tinge pink as if I’ve embarrassed him. “This looks really good, Jason. Thank you,” I tell him and as an afterthought, I lean toward him. “I’m going to kiss you now.”