ARIEL
Griffin continues to stare at me after the waiter leaves.
"What?" I ask. He doesn't answer. I frown. "Why did you hate our server?" I ask.
"He was flirting with you." He states. I laugh at that.
"He was not!" I defend. "He was just being nice, he was probably younger than I am." I shrug.
"You're 22. He's older." He decides.
"How do you know how old I am?" I ask, confused.
"We went to college together." He says without missing a beat.
"But if you did the math, technically you should come to the conclusion that I am 24. I skipped two grades in school. How would you know that?" I ask him. His eyes remain cool, no hint of being caught off guard.
I frown.
"I know most things, tempesta. It is not the strangest thing about me." He simply says.
"That's ominous." I frown.
"Here you are." The guy from earlier puts our food down and I almost melt at the sight of the glorious burger, plate overflowing with curly fries and the frosty chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and a cherry on top.
I thank him and look up at Griffin after he leaves. He's eyeing his milkshake with disdain, like a child does broccoli. He looks adorable. I snicker at that. I never thought that would ever be something I could think about him.
"Try the burger." I urge. We both bite into our burgers together and I don't even enjoy the symphony of flavors from mine because I want to catch exactly what he thinks of it.
His brow notches up in a hint of appreciation as his strong bone structure moves with the effort of his chewing. I sound so creepy but even eating he looks gorgeous.
"Well?" I ask in anticipation.
"It is not bad." He relents.
"Come on! It's better than you expected, atleast say that." I smile. "You're going in for seconds!" I laugh.
"It's not abysmal." he says after his 4th bite. Which leaves only one more bite of his burger. Meanwhile mine isn't halfway gone because it's so hot.
"You can eat fast all you want, you're still waiting for me while I finish mine. I'm hungry but it's too hot." I pout. Griffin smiles in amusement.
I gulp down my shake. "Try yours." I urge. He hasn't touched his milkshake. "I got vanilla because I know you don't like chocolate."
He looks unconvinced.
"Come on. You have to try it before you dismiss it completely." I smile convincingly.
"It looks like diabetes in a cup." he eyes it in disgust.
"No it's super yum I promise. The whipped cream is the best." I lovingly say, scooping some of mine onto my pointer finger, and putting it in my mouth, sucking it off with a pop sound. I look at him with a wide smile but falter when I find him staring at my mouth, fixated. It makes me freeze.
He reaches over the table, a large thumb wipes of the corner of my mouth. I watch in what feels like slow motion, as he brings his thumb to his mouth and slowly licks the white cream on it clean. I press my legs together at the unholy thoughts in my head.
"You were right. It's the sweetest thing I have ever tasted." His darkened eyes and deep voice make me squirm in my place. God his sex appeal is too strong.
I break eye contact and shove a fry in my mouth. I'm scared I'll jump his bones right here.
A low chuckle makes me whip my head towards him so fast, I'm surprised I didn't hear a crack. I watch his stoic features loosening into an amused laugh, the deep baritone sound settles low in my tummy, the butterflies have somehow procreated to 500 times their original amount.
A genuine laugh from Griffin Moretti. He looks painfully beautiful.
"What?" I finally swallow enough butterflies to squeak.
"You look fucking adorable when you go red with embarrassment." his mirthful laugh is short lived, as he composes himself a second later, but the ghost of a smile and a happy expression in his eyes remain. I blush even more.
"Not embarrassed." I mumble.
"Sure, amor." he husks.
"Amor, means love." I confirm.
"Sí." he looks at me.
"My british friend in college used to call me that. In english ofcourse." I eat my fries. His face falls, all evidence of his lingering laughter gone.
"What friend." His face tightens.
"Just a guy, he was at Princeton for an exchange year, he was my friend all of senior year." I dip a fry in some mayonnaise.
Griffin looks away, his jaw visibly clenching and unclenching. I tilt my head.
"Why are you angry?" I ask.
"Im not."
"I know when you're angry." I say softly. "You're a very easily jealous person." I observe. He looks at me. "Just saying. We're technically not even together and you are jealous." I smile.
"Yet. And I am not jealous." He says pointedly. My stomach drops. Oh. "And not just him, that waiter, I don't appreciate his blatant ignorance for professionalism." he grunts.
"I told you, that's just being nice. Plus he's definitely younger than me." I point out again.
"What does that have to do with anything." he scowls.
"I prefer older men- Never mind." I recoil when his eyebrows raise up in surprise.
"Older men?"
I grimace.
"No. I meant it like um, I don't date men younger than me." I ammend. He smirks. "Which reminds me, how old are you?" I ask.
His smirk widens. "Are you considering dating me?" My own smile forms.
"Isn't this a date, Mr. Moretti?" I raise a challenging brow.
His face softens. "Yes it is, Ariel." he husks. The butterflies reign free in my body, expanding from just my stomach.
"Then yes, I am. Considering you just made a teasing comment, I'd say you have some personality." I smirk when he raises his eyebrows again.
"26." His deep voice rumbles.
"Old enough." I laugh at his mock glare. "You really are more than black Armani suits and a displeased scowl."
"You're flying high, tempesta." He says darkly. "Feeling bold."
"I feel comfortable." I correct. His surprised eyes find mine. My own surprise warms my cheeks. "Sorry." I look down at my food.
"Don't be. Comfortable is just the beginning." I look back up, my heart fluttering.
God.
