Willow
IT'S A SHORT DRIVE TO THE RESTAURANT, WHICH TURNS OUT TO BE A cozy little hideaway tucked into the hills. The clapboard building is nestled beneath leaning pines and strings of fairy lights illuminating an outdoor patio. A stacked stone chimney puffs smoke into the hazy night sky. Before I can open the door of the truck, Dominik is already there, opening it for me. Taking my hand again to help me out. I've never had a guy do that for me. Turns out, I don't hate it.
He keeps giving me sidelong glances as we walk across the parking lot. He truly can't seem to keep his eyes off me, and it sends a flurry of self-conscious pleasure through me. "You're looking at me like I'm gonna bite you," he says.
"Aren't you?"
It's a joke. Supposed to be a joke. Only, his pupils dilate for the briefest second, like he's thinking about doing just that, and my heart seems to start beating harder.
"If you ask nicely," he says.
