Worth the Chance

I’ve sometimes seen couples sitting beside each other in a booth and thought it looked odd. It just seems more natural to have a conversation sitting across from someone. Only now do I see what the appeal is. It’s intimate, allowing low spoken conversations and i

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable over there?” I point to the other side of the table.

“No. I like it here. Does it bother you?” he says, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Not at all, it’s fine,” I lie.

Vi

I take a deep breath and try to delve into my work. “So tell me, are you nervous about the upcoming fight?”

“No.”

“Your opponent has slung some mud at you, claiming you’re a drug addict. Do you want to respond to his accusations?”

“No.”

“Are all of your answers going to be this short? Because it’s going to be difficult to make an article out of the word no.”

“Ask better questions then.”

Offended, I take a defensive attitude. “There’s nothing wrong with my questions.”

“How about we take turns. I’ll give you longer answers, but we go question for question.” He scooches an inch closer to me.

“I’m not the one being interviewed.”

“Apparently, then neither am I.” Leisurely grabbing a breadstick from the table, Vi

“You’re really going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he says.

I get the urge to smack the smug smile off his face. He knows I need this interview and he’s arrogant enough to hold it over me to have his fun.

“Fine. But I go first.”

“Always.” The flirtatious smile is back.

“Do you have a drug problem?”

Vi

His honesty makes me feel less guarded. Studying his face while he speaks, I can’t help but take in every masculine feature. The way his mouth moves, the five o’clock shadow that brushes onto his chin and frames the squareness of his jaw. I find it difficult to stop staring.

Vi

I smile hesitantly. The playfulness in his voice, coupled with the dimples peeking out of his smile, makes me think he is enjoying himself, even though he just revealed something difficult.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

A pretty waitress comes to take our order and Vi

Returning his attention to me, he turns back and makes an expectant face. “So, what is it, yes or no?”

“No.”

“Now you’re giving me a one word answer. I thought we agreed those aren’t go

“Fine.” I try my best to act a

Vi

His eyebrows arch in surprise at my question. “You’ve done your homework.” I smile at the compliment and await his response. “I was considering joining the military last year. I may have been ready physically, but my head wasn’t in the game for that level of a fight.”

I remember back to when we were in high school. He’d always worn dog tags around his neck that belonged to his father. “Your dad was in the military, right?”

He reaches in under his sweater and pulls out the same tags I remember dangling so many years ago. “Haven’t taken them off except to fight since I was a kid. He died in the line of duty when I was a baby.” His face looks sad at the memory, but he quickly recovers. “That’s two you owe me now.”

“Did you go to the prom with Evan Marco?” Vi

The name brings back sad memories. “No.”

“Why not?”

“He was too injured to go. Wonder how that happened?” I respond with sarcasm. I’m actually surprised that he would even bring up Evan, no less push me to talk about what happened back then. I was only in tenth grade, so I was shocked when Evan had asked me to the prom. He was two years older and captain of the football team. Every girl wanted him to ask her. Yet he asked me. I hadn’t even realized he knew my name. I was just a wallflower, one of the smart girls who took advanced classes. But he did, and I was excited to go…even though deep down I secretly would’ve rather gone with Vi

My turn. “Why did you beat up Evan?”

Vi

I blush, hating myself for asking. But I’d always wondered. Vi

He smiles halfheartedly, tension creeping back into his face. “He said something I didn’t like.”

“He said something you didn’t like?” I mock his answer in disbelief that he’d gotten himself expelled over something so trivial.

“That’s go

Almost two more hours go by and Vi

Vi

I roll my eyes playfully, but somewhere along the line in the last few hours I let my guard down…he knows I’m kidding. “Go ahead.”

He leans in closer and whispers to me, “Can I kiss you?”

I don’t respond right away, mostly because he doesn’t give me time to. Instead he kisses me. At first it’s hesitant, controlled, gentle…almost unsure. He tastes sweet, like the tiramisu we just shared. Incredibly delicious. After a minute he pulls back, our lips still touching after his gentle kiss, and a low moan escapes my lips before I can stop it. And then gentle goes out the window and he’s on me, kissing me hard, his tongue pilfering my mouth and demanding I allow him to take the lead. The tension gripping my body for the last few days since I saw him again begs for release. I find myself grabbing at his shirt, clenching, pulling him even tighter against me than his already strong hold has us pressed against each other. He sucks on my tongue desperately and bites down on my lip when I move to pull away for air.