Toxic Love • Chris Evans

Chapter 2-getting to know you

The car ride from the theatre to the restaurant, was surprisingly not awkward at all.

Chris was incredibly funny— like the could-have-a-back-up-career-as-a-comedian kind of funny. He had me laughing the whole time. My stomach was hurting and my cheeks were sore by the time we had arrived at the restaurant.

Chris politely opened the door for me, as I stepped from my seat. The first thought that crossed my mind was how expensive this restaurant looked.

The lights were dimmed and huge, fancy chandeliers hung from the ceiling, perfectly illuminating each table.

"Um, Chris," I began skeptically, "are you sure this is okay? I mean it looks really expensive."

Chris probably made more in a month than I would in a year — but I still felt bad.

"Hey, don't you worry about it," he began, his thumb traced along my hand, "every girl should be spoiled on a first date."

Date?

"I've never been on a date like this before," I said while we walked hand-in-hand through the restaurant.

"First time for everything," Chris smiled.

"Table for two?" The hostess asked.

"Yes, please," Chris answered, before the woman walked us towards a secluded corner table.

"How long have you been in LA for?" He asked curiously, genuine intrigue written across his face, once we settled at our spot.

"Hey, how do you know that I'm not from LA?" I question playfully.

"Well, that answers my question doesn't it?" He chuckled, slowly sipping from a wine glass that had been placed on our table.

We talking about our lives, our families, why we came to LA, and so much more. I talked about my modelling and he talked about his acting career.

Chris cleared his throat, "so..." Chris began a bit nervous, "how old are you?" He asked anxiously, his eyes drifted from mine.

"23," I say almost immediately, adding on 5 years to my actual age, making us only 10 years apart as opposed to 15.

"Oh..." he trails off nervously, "do you-do you know how old I—"

"—Yes, Chris, I know you're 33. We're both adults and age doesn't matter to me."

His tense face visibly relaxed, and the rest of the night was filled with expensive champagne and lots of laughter.

I don't know what it was— maybe the champagne— but all of a sudden I had a burst of confidence. While Chris was going on about how long his press junkies were, I lightly brushed my hand against his knee.

Chris brushed it off and continued talking, but then I moved my hand higher until I inched my way towards his inner thigh.

He visibly tensed under my delicate touch, quickly scans the room in order to make sure no one could see.

"Relax..." I giggle playfully, "no one can see us, we're in the back."

Chris was growing visibly hard already. He blushed when I noticed, and I smirked, continuing what I had begun to do, until our waiter came to ask us if we were interested in dessert.

Chris sighed, visibly frustrated, as he vigorously shook his head no.

He wanted dessert, just not that kind.

"You're going to pay for that later," his voice was deep and stern.

"Just wait till we get back to my hotel."