Alexandria's Superman

(sixteen) this love

(Liam's POV)

After attending work for a couple hours, I departed from Dooley's to head over to Ali's.

Before I left the parking lot of Dooley's though, I huffed out a deep breath and tried to release as many nerves as I could. It's nerve-racking knowing that I'll be meeting Ali's whole family tonight, aside from her parents.

Like I always do before a date, I stopped at the flower store that I had quickly become a frequent flyer to and purchased a bouquet of flowers I had yet to give to Ali.

With the flowers in hand, I stood on Ali's front door step as I waited for her to grant me permission to enter her house.

Mere moments after knocking on the door with my good hand, the one that wasn't still slightly bruised from when I punched the brick wall, Ali opened the door with a smile painted across her face.

"Hi," she greeted softly. I handed her the bouquet, and as she grabbed it from my hand, I pulled her in closer to rid of the space between us so that I could kiss her gently.

"Let me to put these in a vase." With my hand in her's still, she led me into the kitchen. She let go of it to get a vase from her cupboard and fill it with water for the flowers.

"Are you nervous?" She had an adorable, teasing grin on her flawless face.

"What makes you think that?" I retorted, refusing to admit that I was, in fact, nervous.

"You're quiet. Usually you're quite talkative."

That's true. Usually, our conversations are 50/50, but so far tonight they seem to be 75/25.

"Yeah," I admitted with a sigh. "I am a little nervous."

Ali's grin only widened as she stepped between my legs seeing as I was sitting at one her high chairs at her center island. Her grin made me groan in embarrassment.

"Don't be nervous. They're all easy-going people, I swear to you." She assured me. I placed my hands below her hips, my palms resting right above her butt.

"I believe you." I murmured. She leaned in and pecked my lips, quickly.

"Let's skedaddle!" She pulled away from my hold, but reclaimed my hand in her's again.

"Okay, Damsel," I teased.

The more time she spent at Dooley's, the quicker she caught on that my coworkers have officially nicknamed her to be Damsel. Of course she complained, but I found amusement from her distaste of the nickname.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly as we made our way over to her vehicle.

It was my idea we take her car because I didn't particularly want my first impression to the Dickson's to be my clunker, as Ali likes to call it. She said she didn't care what car we took, that it was entirely up to me, but I had to drive either way.

I've come to learn she's not big on driving.

A frown settled on my face when I realized she had pulled her hand away from mine. "I'm sorry, Ali." I murmured in her ear when we were at close proximity right outside of her car that was parked in the driveway of her house.

Our moment was interrupted at the abrupt sound of a flicker from a camera. Quickly, I jumped away from Ali to put a great deal of space between us.

Paparazzi.

"Get in the car, Ali." I murmured, opening the passenger door for her to climb inside. She didn't put up any form of argument as she climbed in and shut the door on her own.