Simply Sonny: An SVU love story

Chapter 25: Date

"Should we order some Chinese food or something?" I ask once the door is closed and he's behind me.

He goes straight to the kitchen, "I'm sure I could whip something up. What do you have here?" He asks, opening the fridge to look inside.

I go over to his side, also peering into the basically empty fridge, "not much" I inform, just realizing how little I've been eating since everything happened.

I start to think about everything my therapist said, about taking control of my life and needing to mold myself into someone I want to be. I don't want my rape to be what defines me. I keep thinking about what she said when Sonny pulls me out of my trance, "you okay?" he asks me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I look up to him and smile, "what?" I get out, "sorry, I was just thinking about something." I tell him embarrassed.

"I was just saying you have enough here for me to put something together, is that okay?" He asks.

"Sure!" I say happily, "what do you need me to do?" I ask next.

"I'll cook, you just relax, put your feet up." He responds leaning into the fridge to grab some things from it.

I ask, "you sure?"

"Yes. Go find some bad reality show on the TV and I'll start dinner." He assures me.

I nod, moving over to my phone instead to put on music. I put on a jazz station from my pandora playlist and he looks at me with a raised eyebrow, "I'm not really in a TV watching mood tonight." I lie, not telling him about my cable being disconnected because I haven't paid the bill in 3 months.

"Good choice." He smiles, rinsing the lettuce.

I go back into the kitchen and push to help, "I want to help, what do you need me to do?"

"Why don't you chop up that onion in your fridge?" He offers, looking over his shoulder at me as he chops the lettuce, "and I'll need a bowl to put this in."

"You got it." I say moving over to where he is standing, "excuse me." I say, needing to get to the cabinet he's standing in front of. He moves to the side so I can open it and I get out a bowl for the lettuce. I lean up and go to hand it over to him. The bowl presses against both of us, making me realize how close we actually are to each other. I drop the bowl from being flustered and it crashes to the ground, breaking into pieces. "Oh crap!" I mutter as the glass falls across the floor.

Sonny chuckles, "here, come here." He puts the knife down and opens his two hands as if to pick me up. I eye him cautiously at his gesture but he just keeps his hands there, "you want to try to step around all this glass with bare feet?" He smirks at me, only trying to be nice. I sigh with a semi-eye roll and shake my head. I lift my arms for him to be able to wrap around my waist and he lifts me up easily taking a few steps out of the kitchen and placing my feet down on the rug. I'm thankful for his kind gesture but also regret thinking about what I thought. Sonny is a good man, of course, he wouldn't use that as an opportunity to get closer to me, to cause more anxiety about being with a man again. All of that, deepening my feelings for him, "broom?" is all I hear him say to me and I look at him with a confused gaze, "do you have a broom?" He repeats to me.

I nod my head and move to the entry closet, "yes, sorry!" I say as I open the door, "here" I grab it and hand it over to him. "So sorry I dropped that, I don't know what happened." I lie, knowing very well the closeness of our bodies is what caused it.

"It's fine, just some glass." He returns sweeping. A minute goes by and he's all done, "all done. But you should put some shoes on just to be safe." He leans down to pick up the dustpan and throw the glass into the trash. I nod my head and retreat back to the closet to put on my sandals. When I return he just finishes washing his hands, "I'll get another bowl." He leans down and grabs another bowl from the same cabinet.

I go to the fridge and get out the onion, placing it on the cutting board I got out before and begin to cut. It only takes Sonny 20 minutes to make the salad, then he moves to my pantry to see what else I have to make. "Just salad is okay, Sonny," I holler at him from the bar stool at the counter, "I don't have much."

He looks over his shoulder, "absolutely not. I'm Italian, every dinner needs a pasta dish!"

"Alright!" I smile back, pulling a magazine from the stack of mail I have and begin to flip through.

I look up from a page a little bit later and see him swaying to the music in the background. His back turned to me as he sways to the rhythm, moving his feet with the beat. I try to hide my chuckle and as I see him turn around to look at me. I force my head back down to the magazine in front of me, "what's so funny over there?" He asks me.

I look up as if I wasn't just staring at him and try to lie, "nothing, this article is just ridiculous." I say.

But as I say it he comes over to look at what I'm reading and of course, it's just a page for an overpriced perfume, "oh, really? It's so ridiculous?" He stops me from trying to close the magazine to cover up my lie, "oh yes, Keira Knightly posing for perfume is real funny!" He grabs the magazine from me.

"It's just.." I say, having no words to finish the sentence.

"You have something to say about my dancing?" He asks, putting the magazine down and putting his hands on his hips.

I shake my head, "dancing? I don't know what you are talking about." I smile, knowing he knows I saw him.

"Nope. You are not getting out of this!" He snickers coming over to where I'm sitting. He puts his hand on my shoulder and another takes my hand. I stand up, wondering what is going on and he adjusts so we are in a dancing position. He leads through the song, dancing along with the rhythm, "my dancing funny now?" He asks with a wide smile.

I chuckle out, "not at all," and let him lead the way. His left-hand rests on my lower back and his right has a hold of mine, moving where his right foot does.

We dance for at least two songs before he stops, cursing as he lets me go and moves back to the kitchen, "oh, crap!" he claims, grabbing a hold of the oven mitt and moving the pot off the hot stove. He looks down at the pot with pasta inside and shakes his head, "so, I think I'm in the mood for some Chinese food."

I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh and respond, "I'll get the menu!"