Always

20| Dinner

It's been ten minutes and I'm absolutely bored.

I'd put on a movie but I'd just fall asleep immediately and not want dinner anymore. I scroll on TikTok for a while but it's hopeless because I have the attention span of a three year old. It doesn't help hearing plots clanging every few minutes.

I mean I can always sneak in the kitchen right?

I turn off my phone my mind churning with mischief as I slowly make my way to the kitchen. I'm literally smacked in the face with a mouth watering fragrance and nearly forget that I'm supposed to be sneaking.

To hell with the deal, it smells amazing in here. I tip toe as quietly as possible around the bar and into the, gourmet kitchen. I freeze when I take in the sight of shirtless Greyson cooking in an apron.

Holy shit this man is gorgeous.

There's little beads of sweat forming on his concentrated forehead. His taught muscles glisten in the light as he plates what looks and smells like chicken alfredo.

My freaking favorite.

He garnishes the dish with cilantro and turns toward the spot where I'm hiding. I'm too stunned to attempt to run and it's too late.

"You're drooling again," he says smirking.

"Shut up, how'd you even see me?"

"I didn't see you I smelt you. Let's go dinner's ready."

***

Greyson seats me in front of an empty white plate with beautiful designed cutlery on each side. He pours me a glass of red wine and sits across from me in front of a empty plate of his own.

"This smells amazing. How'd you know chicken alfredo was my favorite?"

"It was obvious, you ate it all the time in kindergarten and first grade. You stopped after that though, but I vividly remember it."

"Oh my god, Greyson Reynolds were you stalking me?" I mock. He just laughs.

We sit in silence for a moment before reality seeps in that I actually have to eat. I can feel panic slowly start to rise in me. I've never actually eaten a full meal in front of anyone besides Mya before, and even those are hard. I'm rarely ever hungry anyway. I mean I am, but I ignore it.

What I can't ignore though is the delicious dish of homemade pasta that sits in front of me. Did I mention that it smells heavenly? I actually want to eat it. Really really badly.

Greyson some how senses my uneasiness and grabs the tongue to plate his own food. I follow suit and he begins eating shortly after. I don't feel as pressure or anxious as I was to eat. I'm not sure of it's the pasta or Greyson, but it's working.

My first bite is small and slow and freaking delicious. My eyes widen as the flavors melt over my tongue. It's rich, creamy and absolutely amazing.

"You like it?" He asks nervously.

"I freaking love it! This is the best thing I've ever eaten," I shout shoving more into my mouth. I don't even care how I look in front of Greyson in this moment.

"I'm glad you like it," he chuckles.

"Really, this is really good. Do you ever see yourself cooking for other people?"

"I don't know..." he says nervously. "I mean with football and college I don't really think it's something I should really focus on."

I frown, "Do you really like football?"

His brows furrow a little in hesitation, "I love football and I love being captain, I do but... I'm not my happiest there."

"That's because your happiness is in the kitchen making amazing ass food. Don't let that go."

"I won't," he laughs.

A/N:

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