If Looks Could Kill

Chapter 8: The Hair

I wanted to go on this trip to see the country. I wanted to get out of town and do something for myself. But the people I got to become friends with because of this trip is more than I could ever hope for.

It's better than this trip.

When the man stops playing the trumpet to take a break, everyone pulls away and claps. Blake and I stay pressed together for a short moment after the music stops. We stand there and revel in how close we are to each other before slowly pulling away.

Others may not have noticed Blake and I's small pause before pulling away, but Blake and I did.

It's small moments like that that can really make a day.

Reggie goes and puts a dollar in the man's trumpet case before we head off to do something else. We all agree that since it's starting to get late, we should all probably go and get something to eat.

We find a jazz café to go and get dinner in. It's a cozy yet sophisticated place that intrigued us the second we heard music coming from inside. It's quite beautiful if I do say so myself. The exposed brick, the framed photographs on the wall, the white tablecloth covered tables, it's all just amazing.

We sit down at a table in the back corner with Blake and I on one side of the table and Reggie and Beth on the other. The place isn't overflowing, but there is a decent amount of people in here.

Our waiter is a nice middle-aged lady who doesn't seem to be able to not have a smile on her face. She brings us all our respective drink orders and tells us to take our time looking at the menu. I order steak and potatos and Blake says he'll have whatever I'm getting.

The food was something that you don't have to taste to know it's going to be delicious. My mouth started to water the second I saw our waiter heading towards us.

After our food is set down and I make sure Blake knows where everything is, I begin to eat.

Reggie gives a moan of approval for the Jambalaya he's eating, "I'd roll around in a huge pot of this if I could."

This earns a small chuckle from Blake and I.

I'm not even three bites into my meal before a feel Blake's left hand make a home on my knee. He rests it there and gives it small rubs. The gesture makes me sigh from contentment. It's simple and intimate and just what I like. He keeps it there as we eat and once in a while, I take my hand and rub it on his hand. I always make sure to look over to catch the smile that appears on his face whenever it happens.

The food is amazing and the live band that plays on the stage in the front of the restaurant makes the whole experience even better. The taste of the food, the sound of the music, and the feel of Blake's hand all seem to be overloading my senses into one big feeling of euphoria.

I hope Blake can feel it too.

As we continue to eat, Blakes goes from moving his hand in small circles to moving his hand up and down from my knee to my mid-thigh. It doesn't seem to be suggestive, just a way for Blake to really feel that I'm there.

He seems to enjoy having some bodily contact with me and I'm not complaining.

I decide to take my hand and rest it on his thigh. I watch him as he seems to pause his breathing before resuming it to its normal place. His hand goes limp on my leg as I start to rub my hand on his. I enjoy the contact we have with each other. Knowing he's there is one thing but feeling him there is a completely different thing.