“Hey,” he says, smiling with his eyes. He gives me a once-over, his dimples popping out as he grins his approval. “Beautiful.”
Anaya looks at me. “You didn’t tell me you were going on a date with Grayson,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at me. She looks at Grayson. “You better be good to her.”
“How do you even know him,” I ask her.
She grins. “Everyone knows Grayson Mills.”
Grayson ignores her and walks toward me, pulling me into his side. “Of course I’ll be good to her. You ready to go?” he asks. I nod and say bye to Anaya. We walk outside to where his car is parked.
“No motorcycle today?” I ask, checking out his black car.
He unlocks the car doors with a click of a button and then opens the passenger side door for me. “I didn’t think that was first date material.”
I laugh. “That makes no sense at all.”
He walks around and slides into the driver’s seat. “When we’re on the bike, I can’t talk to you.”
“True, but in the car you don’t have me wrapped around you, my boobs pressed against your back,” I blurt out.
Grayson looks at me for a second, before laughing. “I’m suddenly seeing the error of my ways.”
“As long as you realise,” I add dryly, looking ahead as he pulls out and drives onto the main road. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, playing with the hem of my top.
“Not yet, but you look perfect. Beautiful as always,” he says, flashing me a grin before looking back to the road.
“Thanks,” I mutter, blushing slightly.
“How was your day?” he asks me.
“It was okay. Just had one class. Then I did some studying at home,” I reply. “How about you?”
“I worked all day. Couldn’t wait for tonight,” he says, glancing over to see my reaction.
“Where do you work?” I ask.
He pauses for a second. “At a hotel.”
Vague. But I don’t push. Because if I do, then he can too. “Do you like it?”
He nods once. “It’s all right. When did you move here from Melbourne?”
“A week before uni started.” I snap my head to him. “How did you know I used to live in Melbourne?”
“You mentioned it,” he says.
“I did?” I don’t remember telling him.
“Yes, Paris,” he says gently, “you did.”
“Right, okay. Just before uni started,” I say.
“Do you like it here?”
I shrug. “It’s nice. Quiet. I don’t really know anyone, so I just keep to myself.”
“You know me and Anaya,” he says. “I’m sure you could make friends if you wanted to.”
If I wanted to, but I don’t. “Sure,” I reply, shrugging once more. Grayson pulls into the driveway of a huge single-storey house. When he parks the car, I open my mouth, lifting my finger in the air.
“Before you say anything, this is my house. I thought I could cook dinner for you,” he says, getting out of the car before I can reply. He opens the door for me, watching me as I hesitate. “We can go somewhere else if you like,” he says when I don’t move.
I glance at the house, a house I’d probably have to strip for the rest of my life to afford, and get out of the car. “You live here alone?” I ask him, eyeing the house once more.
“I do. My sister comes and stays usually on the weekends, but that’s about it,” he says, closing the car door and taking my hand in his. I stare down at our hands, wondering when this all happened. He squeezes my hand gently, and I lift my head to look at his face.
“What are you cooking?” I ask curiously. He chuckles and leans down to kiss me on the forehead. I instantly still as his lips touch my skin, at the casualness of his action. He notices and moves away, clearing his throat.
“More grilling than cooking,” he says, his dark eyes not leaving me.
“Steak?” I ask, perking up.
“Steak, salad, and potatoes.”
“Sounds good,” I say, and his shoulders instantly relax. I smile at him, finding it endearing that he’s trying to impress me. He unlocks the front door and opens it for me to enter. I step inside and wait in darkness, until he turns the lights on and steers me into the kitchen.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, taking in the modern marble countertop and white cupboards.
He glances around as if only just noticing. “Yeah, I guess. Here have a seat,” he says, gesturing me to the table. He opens the fridge and starts pulling out ingredients, clumsily knocking over the salt. I purse my lips, trying not to laugh.
“Why don’t I sort out the salad, and you handle the steaks?” I offer. Grayson gives me a sheepish smile and nods, looking grateful.
“You have cooked before, right?” I ask, unable to contain the suspicion in my tone.
Grayson blushes; he actually blushes. “Actually, this is my first time,” he admits, cringing. I want to laugh so hard right now, but I don’t want to hurt the man’s feelings. He looks up at me, taking in my expression. His lip twitches. “Finding this funny, are you?”
I let my laughter escape. “Oh, come on, it’s pretty funny.”
“For you maybe,” he grumbles.
I laugh into my hand. “All right,” I say, standing up and walking to the fridge. “I’ll handle the sides, you handle the meat.”