Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Look at you crushing on a girl.” He laughs before he quickly corrects himself. “On a woman.”
“She’s an incredible woman,” I stress his point. “Intelligent, kind, and she thinks I’m charming.”
His smile carries to his eyes. “Try not to mess it up, Saint.”
“I won’t,” I say with conviction. “I’ll do everything within my power to not fuck this up.”
Chapter Thirty
Callie
I glance at the young couple sitting at the table near us. “Do you think they’re on their first date too?”
Sean’s gaze doesn’t leave my face. “Absolutely.”
I let out a stuttered laugh. “You didn’t even look at who I’m referring to.”
His head shakes slightly. “I don’t need to. I saw them when they first arrived. She’s blonde with black-rimmed glasses. A pink hair tie is wrapped around her ponytail. He’s sporting the beginnings of a mustache. His hands are shaking like we’re in the middle of a magnitude six point nine quake.”
I steal a glance to see the dark-haired guy’s hands quivering as he reaches for his water glass.
“It’s about to get a lot more relaxed over there,” Sean comments.
My gaze drifts back to his face. “How so?”
He leans forward. “I ordered them a bottle of champagne. A few sips of that, and those first date nerves will disappear.”
My eyes widen. “When did you order them champagne?”
“When you were in the washroom trying to chase away that blush on your cheeks.”
I dip my chin to hide the sudden rush of heat I feel.
“Champ,” Sean says my name softly.
I glance up. “What?”
“Tell me about your first date.”
That’s completely unexpected, but it beats talking about my reddened cheeks, so I’m all in. “I was in eighth grade, I think. We went out for burgers. My oldest brother chaperoned.”
“How were the burgers?”
I laugh. “Fine. Why?”
“You can tell a lot about a man from his restaurant choices.” He glances around us. “I would have brought you to a place like this for dinner when you were in eighth grade.”
Shaking my head, I smile. “You would have been too old for me then.”
“I’m twenty-nine, Calliope.”
“I’m twenty-five,” I point out. “When I was in eighth grade, you were…”
“Too old for you.” His brow perks. “Let’s talk about first kisses.”
Our waiter interrupts us. He arrives with a tablet in hand and what seems to be a rehearsed speech about the specials for the night.
I order salmon. Sean chooses a steak, rare and a bottle of wine that will compliment both of our meals.
Once the waiter has wandered off, I take control of the conversation. “Do you remember your first kiss?”
Sean tugs on the lapels of his dark blue suit jacket.
He looks incredible tonight. The white button-down shirt he’s wearing is a perfect canvas for his violet striped tie.
I opted for a dress in almost the same hue.
We shared a laugh on our way here about how color coordinated we are.
“I remember it not-so-fondly,” he admits. “Promise me you’re not going to laugh.”
“I can’t promise that,” I say honestly.
“Promise you won’t laugh too loud,” he counters.
“Promise.”
“I was a late comer to the first kiss party.” He chuckles. “I was thirteen and thought I had the perfect candidate in mind.”
“Who?” I blurt out.
“Savannah Atteridge,” he says softly. “My best friend.”
A smile blooms on my lips. “How did your first kiss with Savannah Atteridge go?”
“Horribly.”
I hold in a laugh. “Why?”
“My grandparents had a swimming pool on the roof of their building,” he begins before taking a sip from the water glass in front of him. “I invited Savi to swim because she was a champion. She had literally won medals for swimming, and I thought she’d appreciate the extra pool time.”
“That was nice of you,” I say.
“I jumped into the deep end.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t realize it was the deep end, mind you, and I had no fucking idea how to swim.”
My hand jumps to my mouth. “Oh no.”
“Oh no is right.” He smirks. “Savi dove in to save me. Somehow she dragged me to the edge, and I saw it as an opportunity to get her lips on mine, so I played the semi-drowning victim and kept my eyes closed.”
“You didn’t.”
“I sure as hell did.” He sighs. “She pushed my chest a few times for good measure, lined her lips up with mine, and boom moved in for the mouth-to-mouth save.”
Mesmerized by this story, I lean an elbow on the table and focus on his face. “What happened next?”
His tongue darts out to slick his bottom lip. “I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and held her in place for what I thought would be the best first kiss ever.”
“Was she receptive?”
A bark of a laugh flows from him. “Hell no she wasn’t. She punched me in the chest and got up to walk away.”
I glance to the left when I see the waiter approaching with a bottle of wine in his hand. “Did that ruin your friendship?”