Enchanted

Chapter Three

Y/N was beginning to get nervous. She still had several hours to figure out what to wear, but it was entirely too much time and not enough. Joe wasn't just some regular idiot dude she met at an event or some stupid musician that she had been known to date. This was...Joe Burrow. It shouldn't matter, but it did with his perfect cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. He had gorgeous hair and eyes in which she could get lost for days. He was everything; funny, sweet, charming, attentive, a total gentleman. He was clearly into her; he had basically professed it on national TV.

She held up a little black dress in front of her and said, "You'll be sleeping hard enough that you won't care what temperature the room is or if there is a little bit of sun peeking through the blinds." She let the hanger drop and rolled her eyes. He was too sexy and cocky for his own good.

The dress wasn't working. Nothing she had pulled out of her closet was working. She wanted to look like she wasn't trying too hard. She didn't want to be too flashy and put on her fake "Look at me, I'm Y/N Y/L/N." "What the fuck do I do?"

After another hour or so of fretting, she finally settled on the outfit she'd been picturing all week. She put on her favorite jeans and a blouse that was an off-the-shoulder crop top that she didn't need to wear a bra underneath.

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They were in his kitchen while he was starting dinner. She sat on his countertop, sipping on some wine he gave her.

"I like that you aren't afraid to speak your mind.", Joe said to her as they got to know one another. "You hold your own opinion but do so gently, and that's really refreshing." "Do you find that many females don't do that with you?" She asked. "No, they don't.", he said very seriously.

"Huh," she said. "I spent too many years trying to please everyone, and it's exhausting." "I can relate to that," he said, laughing a little.

"What can I do to help?" she asked. The wine was delicious, but she was still also a little nervous. Her eyes were drawn to him as he moved around the kitchen, his muscular shoulders flexing in the tight black t-shirt he wore. His hair was messy, like he had gotten out of the shower not long before she arrived. She was beginning to get the urge to kiss his neck. He was so fucking cute.

"Umm," he chuckled, adjusting the settings on the burner, and turning to face her. The kitchen was dim, the setting was romantic, and he kind of forgot what he was going to say for a second. "Wanna be my sous chef?"

Y/N smiled big. "I can totally do that!"

As Y/N walked over to the other side of the island, Joe raised his eyebrows, smirked, and asked, "Can you chop vegetables?"

"Is that like...a knife?" she teased him and reached for a cutting board. "I love to cook, never get the chance to because of my schedule."

"Are you any good?" Joe asked.

"I mean, I think I am." She said

"What am I doing making this dinner then? I'm a terrible cook! I've got a chef that makes my meals for me. Shoulda come to yours." He laughed.

"Hey now... you're the one that wanted to cook. Besides this, Airbnb is totally nicer than my house. I'm never home, so I've still only got a studio in downtown Hollywood.", she said. "We'd be on top of each other there trying to cook."

You could cut the tension with a knife—days of speaking on the phone and little innuendos here and there. Everything sounded like an invitation or something sexual.