Above Water ✔️

26 - dinner talk

"Did you shave?"

I looked up from the menu. Dallas was looking at me closely and my cheeks warmed. Of course I shaved. "No," I said shyly, holding my menu in front of me to obstruct his view. He laughed and swatted it down, nearly knocking my water over.

He apparently called this morning and reserved a table by the window so we had an ocean view with our food. I couldn't wrap my head around how seriously romantic it all was. Seriously. I could not get it through my brain that I was sitting across from a well-dressed man that's buying me dinner and brought me flowers.

"So," I said once the waitress came by and took our orders, "do you have any questions about what we are going to be doing later this evening?"

Dallas leaned forward on his elbows so I mirrored his actions, our faces mere inches apart. "I've been doing some research," he said, glancing at my lips. "I've learned some techniques, if you know what I mean. But really all I want is for you to make that face again."

I scowled. "What face?"

He fought a smile down before he opened his mouth wide and rolled his eyes back, a very erotic display. I gasped and smacked a hand onto his face so no one would see it and he burst out laughing. I couldn't keep a straight face when hearing the sound, loud and proud in the harsh lighting of the restaurant.

"I can't take you anywhere," I mumbled, looking out the window at the beautiful view beside us.

Dallas grabbed one of my hands on the table and sighed–a happy sigh, one of the ones you let out after a good laugh. "You look really good tonight," he said. I knew he meant it, too, because all night his eyes kept trailing down to my neck and collarbones.

"Thanks, well, I'm about to look a lot better," I said as I saw our waitress returning with crab bibs and gloves. "Hottest date you've ever had, I'm sure."

He didn't deny it, boosting my ego just a bit. I took the bib gratefully and tied it around my neck, smiling at Dallas like a kid. I loved seafood and didn't get it very often due to the price. Some might say I was taking advantage of Dallas's chivalry and I wouldn't necessarily disagree. But a boy's gotta' eat.

We talked the whole time and I learned more about him as we did. He told me that he and Phoebe were never close as kids because they were separated after the thing with his parents happened. He said he grew up with his grandparents and only rekindled his relationship with his sister after high school.

I learned that he used to play basketball and football on alternating seasons. He liked to golf, fish, and cook. When I asked why he wasn't cooking for the house, he said I was the only one worth cooking for. That made me feel some type of way.

It came time to answer some of his questions, eventually. I was hesitant. Part of why I quit therapy was, of course, because I didn't vibe with my first doctor and didn't see the value in going through the matchmaking process again. But also because I learned that I really hated talking about my personal life.

Sure, therapy probably would have gotten rid of that hatred, but I gave up easy.

"The guys pretty much spoiled it for you," I said, referring to their conversation in the kitchen about my dad. "When I was around . . . eleven? Twelve? I don't fuckin' know. Anyways, my dad left at the beginning of middle school. He was a drunk and fought with my mom all the time and had a specific idea of discipline with me towards the end." I laughed bitterly, the dozens of belt beatings flashing in my mind and sending a chill up my spine.

Dallas listened intently, only breaking his attention when our food finally arrived. "Sounds like a dick," he said thoughtfully, but I just shook my head.