How to love

three: Dave and Buster's

"Did you go to college?"

I nod, "I studied interior design for three years at Princeton."

"So you're a New Jersey girl."

I nod again. "Through and through."

He dips his head to get a better view outside the windscreen and I watch as his face becomes masked with complete confusion. I beam. He pulls into the nearest parking space, knocking off the sat-nav that repeatedly echoed that we were at our destination.

"We're here?" His statement sounded more like a question. "Where exactly is this?"

I unbuckle my seat belt like a excited child and motion him to follow me. He does but the lost puppy look is still prominent on his extremely defined features. My directions led us just down the street of where we actually going, knowing too well that if he programmed in the exact location, it would completely give it away.

"Miss Fiel- Frankie." He says, his steps falling in line with mine. "Where are you taking me?"

"Why did you want to take me to the most expensive restaurant in all of New York?"

The question clearly took him off guard, judging by the look on his face. His breath turns into a mist in the blustery cold air and my body was suddenly craving the warmth of Jason's car again. He digs his hands deep into his pockets, something he must do when he's feeling nervous.

"I thought that's what woman liked - to be wined and dined." He says so innocently my heart melt. "I never had anyone complain before, or deny my invitation to be honest. You're the first."

I laugh softly. Our steps were slow and suddenly I didn't care about the freezing temperature.

"Dinner out is a lovely gesture, but only ever so often - and not to a place that costs more than a month's rent on one dish." I tell him and he laughs. Before yesterday I hadn't seen Mr Hayes apart from magazine covers and now here we were, wandering down the streets I had so often walked alone, like old friends.

Was this weird? He was my boss.

"You have a tendency of spacing out, Frankie." He mutters with a hidden smile lifting his tone. "Did I not already say that I took offence at being ignored?"

"Sorry." I murmur quietly. I flick my eyes up to the neon lights and beam, the pit of my stomach flaring with excitement. "We're here!"

He furrows his brows, looking at the tall structured building in front of him. I was like a child about to enter a candy store whilst he stood just as bewildered as the moment I gave him a fake address.

"Dave and busters?" He says and I nod, my flushed cheeks aching with a grin. "You realise I'm twenty-eight, don't you?"

"So?" I scoff, the temptation to reach for his hand and drag him inside rising within me. "You can't tell me that arcade games don't get you excited."

His nose wrinkles and I roll my eyes, reaching for the door to be startled with the suddenly presence of a hand darting before me. These chivalry gestures made me swoon, and I'm sure the blush that crept up my neck gave it away. But he didn't say anything.

Gentleman.

The neon lights and loudness released my inner child, and even at twenty-five, I still became excited at the sight of the hundreds of games surrounding me. We were ushered to a booth, secluded enough to ignore the elated squeals of excited kids, but still in eye view of the air hockey machines that I was itching to get at.

"Why here? Out of all the places in the city, and outside it in fact, why here?" He asks, folding his coat and setting it beside him. His half-rolled sleeves clench around his prominent biceps and they revealed his broken watch. For a man who was worth millions, the curiosity of why he wouldn't by a new watch burned me.