Roll the Dice

sixteen. dulce de leche

Now, I caught Dom's second look of befuddlement and realized, to my absolute horror, (why was I so damn awkward?) that I had been mouthing my thoughts as we jogged along the path.

I shut my mouth firmly and awkwardly cast my eyes around our surroundings, clearing my throat. I was really good at putting myself into these dreadful situations, wasn't I? And now, I had two choices: act like absolutely nothing is wrong or attempt to make myself feel a little less dumb by spluttering out meaningless explanations.

I decided to go with the first option even though my nerves mixed in a little of the second option.

"Um, I—uh—totally just didn't—" I stuttered, "yeah. Right." I cleared my throat when, for a split second, I caught Dom's dark eyes, which all but said, What is up with you?

If I weren't so embarrassed of my stupid hormones and everything else that I'd done, I would have spun up a speech worthy of a debate club medal to excuse myself. But again, my name was not Cara Victore but instead Charlotte Ingham, and I was currently going out on an early-morning run with Dominic Amaro.

Fuck my life.

"Have I ever asked you what language you're taking?" I spoke up after a while of running awkwardly in silence. It wasn't like the sound of my voice was a blessing—it was quite tranquil to listen to the trees rustle in the morning breeze and some birds whistling somewhere high up. I must have startled Dom because he jerked as soon as I spoke.

I always knew I spoke a little too loudly in social situations.

Also, it was a little sad that through all these years of being completely infatuated with Dom, I had absolutely no inkling of something as mundane as the language he was required to take for his entire high school career.

Dom cleared his throat. "I don't think so, actually."

And there was a silence.

Why? Wasn't it basically implied that I wanted him to answer that very question that I'd mentioned?

Sometimes guys were so incredibly dense that I wondered why I'd even set out to change his mind about Guys and Dolls when he couldn't even take a hint.

As we kept jogging on, the trees started to clear out, and the sunlight became brighter and brighter with each step we took. I was going to miss the coolness that the shade from the leafy canopy above me provided, I thought vaguely. And besides, I was starting to feel my chest constrict a little the way it did when I passed the three mile mark. Man, it was going to feel good when I could pour my ice cold water bottle over my head, especially after pushing through all the heat.

I cleared my throat even more loudly than Dom had—hopefully, that would direct his oblivious little brain back to my question.

"What?" Dom sent me a ruffled look, like something an offended chicken would give someone after that person tried to pick it up. "What did I do now?"

And even though we were both sweating profusely from our rather long run (I could tell that Dom was starting to tire out by the way he now took in shorter breaths—his pride, however, would never let him slow down), I couldn't help but notice how absolutely heartwarming his dark eyes were as he pouted at me.

God, he was incredibly cute—and, no doubt, extremely hot.

Now my pride was never going to let me sit down and take a rest just to process all of him.

"Well," I puffed out, inhaling deeply through my nose (I always did have a little issue with breath control on these long runs), "what language are you taking?"