Admit It

Chapter 4

I fill our bowls with creamy caesar salad and take a seat across my small kitchen table from Tyler, clinking my wine glass with his before digging into my salad. I find myself keeping an eye on him, watching him shovel lettuce drenched in dressing into his mouth and smearing it on his lips.

Tyler finishes his bowl before I do and takes a big swig of his beer. "Delicious," he compliments me with a smile, waiting politely for me to finish my bowl.

"Do you want more?" I offer, pushing the bowl of salad closer to him, but to my dismay he shakes his head.

"Maybe later, want to save some room for the lasagna."

I try not to let disappointment flicker across my face, and clear our bowls. The lasagna is steaming from being reheated in the oven and I place it on the table between us.

Tylers eyes gleam excitedly. "God, that smells so good. And it's meatless?" he adds with surprise.

"Meatless, it'll taste different but I promise it's still good," I say, cutting into the thick layers and lifting a big slice onto Tyler's plate, the melted cheese gooey and stringy as it stretches out of the pan. I serve myself a slightly smaller piece, but not different enough to be noticeable.

We fall into a comfortable silence, chowing down on the lasagna and taking sips of our drinks. He tells me about his week, working at a clothes retail store in the mall, and I tell him about my classes and part time job, realizing we actually work in the same mall.

Once we each finish our piece, we chat and finish our wine glasses until I muster up the courage to ask if he wants seconds.

"So, do you want more salad or lasagna, or satisfied?"

Tyler hesitates, which makes my hopes flutter. I look at him innocently and take a long drink of my beer before he speaks up again.

"Sure, I'll have a little more of each, if that's okay."

I eagerly stand and cut another piece of lasagna for him, the same size as the first, and load his bowl up with more salad before taking a seat across from him again. We fall into silence and I don't notice for a few minute that he's just eating and I'm just watching. He doesn't seem uncomfortable but I get self conscious, so I cross my legs and break my gaze, trying to think of something to say.

"So, Tyler, uh, have you been on Tinder lately?"

Tyler looks at me with narrowed eyes and I immediately bite my tongue, kicking myself for saying something so stupid.

"Uh, no, actually, I haven't been on since our last date," he replies between bites. "Have y-" he starts to say before quickly pressing a fist to his mouth, and I can hear a suppressed belch muffled against his hand.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying desperately to think about something other than how tight the buttons of his shirt might be getting around his stomach, and how that burp would have sounded if he'd let it loose.

"I haven't either," I say quickly, regaining my composure. "Been on Tinder. Since last week."

Tyler makes eye contact with me and grins in a way that lets me know I'm fine and have nothing to worry about. "That makes me happy, to know that."

We look at each other for a minute before I clear my throat and stand up. "Dessert?" I suggest, gathering the plate and bowl he's scraped clean as well as my own, putting them in the sink. Tyler exhales deeply and I catch him putting a hand on his stomach, which is just as distended as I suspected, and I have to make myself look away before my jeans fold uncomfortably.

"What's dessert again?"

"Brownies with peanut butter chocolate chip cookie dough."

"Fuck yeah, I have room!"

I chuckle, trying to hide the flush in my face, and pull the tray of brownies out of the fridge. I grab each of us another beer and small dessert plates, settling back at the table.

"Corner or edge piece?" I ask, knife in hand to cut into the cookie dough.

"Is both acceptable?" he says with a smirk, and I cut one row into three pieces and put one corner on my plate, and the other corner and edge piece on Tyler's plate.

The brownie tastes delicious, and the peanut butter in the cookie dough adds a sweetness to the dough that makes it taste less raw and more like soft cookies. I roll my eyes after the first bite. "I'll need to save this recipe."

Tyler nods, quickly eating up his two pieces and chugging half of his beer to wash it down. I take a few sips after mine and stifle a hiccup-burp, feeling fuller than I intended myself. After a deep breath I let my own hands fall to my stomach, rubbing the small bump through my shirt.

"Man, I'm stuffed," I admit, chuckling lightly. I look across the table and see Tyler nod in agreement.

"Yeah, you can't make food that good and expect me not to overdo it," he agrees, following my lead and letting his hands fall to his belly under the table too.

"Want to watch a movie or something to relax?" I ask, nodding my head towards my living room just off the kitchen with a television and large comfy couch. I mentally try to calm myself down, repeating in my head that the most I'm going to do is cuddle and kiss him, and definitely not look at his stomach.

"Sure," Tyler says, getting up from the chair carefully so not to bend forward, and he walks slowly over to the couch. I bite my lip when I notice he's definitely undone his belt a few notches, and the buttons around his belly are straining much tighter than when he arrived.

I follow and sit on the couch beside him, and before I have the chance to grab the remote, Tyler takes my face in his hands and pulls me towards him, pressing his lips to mine passionately.

I return the kiss, my hands instinctively reaching for his hips, and instead one rests gently on his belly, my fingers trailing slowly up the tight round shape to get to his waist. He pushes his tongue between my lips and deepens the kiss, holding my neck softly and I clench my hands.

Then I hear it. A deep grumble that moves quickly up Tyler's throat from his stomach, and the sound reverberates directly into my mouth. I taste chocolate, peanut butter, and a hint of the tomato sauce from the lasagna, immediately feeling aroused.

That's when I make my biggest mistake and freeze in a panic: I moan.