It's A Date

So. Many. Red. Flags.

Those are the words swirling around in my head. Of course, they're counterbalanced by the tried and true "I can fix him," and the cursed "I'm horny and he has a huge dick." Great. I'm sure this will be completely fine.

Jack is still looking at me, a slightly constipated expression on his face as he waits for my answer. My heart softens a little. He seems genuinely nervous - more **** than I've ever seen him. In that moment, I can see two versions of him: one where I say yes, and he slowly unlearns all this 'nice guy' stuff; and the other where I reject him, and he falls even deeper into it.

Or maybe I'm just thinking with my clit.

"Yes. On one condition," I smile, climbing into his lap. His eyes light up, before being tempered by unease as I hold a condom up. "The next time we open one of these, we damn well use it."

He chuckles, and his hands slide around to my ass and squeeze. "Deal."

The bright sunlight forces me to squint as I slip out of the window. Amy gives me a thumbs up and shuts the window behind me as I brush myself off, and I shoot her a grin before sneaking around the cabin and making my way into town.

My flip flops slap against the sidewalk, and by the time I reach the high street, a thin sheen of sweat covers my skin. Not the ideal look for a first date, but I guess it can't be helped. Besides, the rest of my outfit should make up for it.

I spot Jack leaning against the wall of the Greek restaurant, his hair still a little wet after his gym session with Freddie earlier. He brushes it nervously into curtains as his soft brown eyes dart around the street. He hasn't seen me yet, so I take a moment to appreciate his outfit - a light shirt and a nice pair of pants. The shirt fits him well, giving a hint of the muscles underneath, and I bite my lip at the thought.

No. Head out of the gutter, Alicia.

Waving at him, I cross the street, and grin as his jaw drops and his eyes flick down to my dress. I had originally planned to save it until we went clubbing, but a date seemed like a good excuse to bust it out a little early.

I give him a quick twirl, and a rush goes through me as I feel him drink me in. The white minidress hugs my curves, ending just after the tops of my thighs. Though it doesn't show any cleavage, it leaves just enough of my shoulders bare to tell that I'm not wearing a bra. His eyes linger on my collarbone, then slip down to where my nipples are just barely noticeable, and he gapes. I giggle, and he looks up at me like a schoolboy who was just caught perving on his teacher.

"Hey," Jack says, his throat dry.

"Hey," I smirk. Stepping forwards, I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, then adjust his collar. "You look nice."

He gulps and looks anywhere but at me. "You too."

Wow. Awkward much, buddy?

When it becomes clear that nerves are rooting him to the spot, I roll my eyes and fold my arms. "Well, shall we? Or are we just going to stand out here for three hours?"

He looks up quickly at my sharp tone, but when he sees the smirk on my lips, he smiles sheepishly and runs a hand through his hair. "Right." He holds the door open for me, and I inject a little more sway into my hips as we enter the restaurant.

Wood panelling and blue-and-white tiles give the place a rustic decor, and already the rich smell of sizzling meat has my mouth watering. By the time the waitress sits us down at a table in the corner, my stomach is grumbling, and we spend ten minutes in total silence as I stare at the menu. When she returns, I still haven't decided, so I point at a random dish with the logic that if I'm this hungry I'll eat anything.

Without a menu to hide behind, Jack's eyes dart around the restaurant, and he shrinks back into his seat. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he squirms. "You know, if you don't want to be here, you're allowed to leave," I say gently.

"What?" He finally meets my gaze, although uncertainty flashes in his eyes. "No, I - I want to be here. Do you not want me to be here?"

I roll my eyes. "Jack, in case you don't remember, you asked me out, and I said yes. So maybe stop acting like you're growing the balls to ask me out, and start acting like we're on a date? Because, you know, we are." I grin and find his calf with my foot to reassure him.

He stiffens, then slowly smiles that small, warm smile of his, and my chest flutters. "Okay."

"Great," I smile. "So, what do you listen to at the gym?"

"Uh ... Usually Freddie and I just chat, but if I'm on my own or on a treadmill or whatever ... I don't know. Podcasts, mostly." He shrugs.

"Nice, what kinds of podcasts?"

"Mostly fitness stuff." He shrugs again, then looks at me. "How about you? You work out, right?"

I blush a little. "What makes you say that?"

Avoiding my gaze, Jack mumbles, "Well, you're super hot, so I kinda figured ..."

"Aw, thanks," I giggle. "I mean, sometimes Amy drags me on a run, but mostly I just do yoga. It's not for very long, but a little every day means I stay flexible, and ..."

Jack seems to relax a little more, and he's clearly happy to let me lead the conversation as I talk him through the benefits of yoga and my usual routine. By the time our food arrives, he's actually able to look me in the eye for more than five seconds, and he's asking questions and nodding along like yoga is the most interesting topic in the world. Even though he's probably spending the whole conversation imagining me in downward dog.

I finally shut up for long enough to take a few mouthfuls of halloumi, and I moan at the rich flavor and the relief for my growling stomach. "Mm, this is good."

Jack nods, wolfing down his kebab. "Delicious."

I point at him as I finish another mouthful, and he looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh. So. How did you even come across hypnosis?" I ask, a slight smirk on my lips.

He glances around the room. No one else is close enough to overhear. "I don't really know. Youtube just recommended it to me, and I clicked on it," he shrugs.

"Uh huh. I guess it probably has some appeal for guys wanting to hypnotize a girl into sex." I raise an eyebrow, and he blushes.

"That's not - I mean, I think the first one I watched was a video about using hypnosis to destress, but it didn't really work on me." He looks up, and his soft brown eyes twinkle. "But then, yeah, something along those lines."

"Pervert," I laugh.

He narrows his eyes. "Hey, you're the pervert - you actually get off on it."

I fold my arms and cock my head. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

Jack raises his eyebrows in disbelief and puts his thumb and middle finger together. I bite my lip. Go on, I urge. I want to be snapped down and mindless in the middle of the restaurant, utterly obedient despite all the people around us. I want him to make me dance like a stripper on top of the table. I want him to blow his load in my mouth and make me swallow it right after my lovely meal. Jesus, what is wrong with me?

Sensing my anticipation, he grins and picks up his fork as if the moment had never happened. I exhale slowly. After a moment, my heart slows down enough for me to continue eating, although I can still feel a wetness between my legs. This time I'm the one taking an unusual interest in my food as an excuse to avoid his eyes. When I do glance up, though, he's still grinning at me with a knowing look.

"Something you wanted?" he smirks. I blush and shake my head, and although his gaze lingers, he clearly decides not to press it. Instead, his expression shifts, and his eyes lose that predatory gleam. "Oh yeah, so you were pretty good at volleyball before ... Well, I mean, why didn't you try out for the varsity team?"

I smile sheepishly, grateful for the opportunity to move on from the moment. "I did, actually, freshman year. I got onto the team, but I was usually stuck as a reserve, and ... I don't know, I had other things going on."

Jack's eyes narrow slightly at my evasive answer, and I curse inwardly. Why didn't I just make something up about the rest of the team being cliquey or something? "What do you mean, 'other things'?"

"I ..." I sigh. Talking about exes is a big no on a first date, isn't it? But it's not like I can avoid it now. Better off just biting the bullet. "Desmond convinced me to quit so he could spend more time with me."

"Oh." Jack's face falls and his gaze drops to my plate at the mention of my ex. I try to think back. Had they met? I barely knew Jack a year ago, but if Freddie had invited him along to any of his parties, they might have crossed paths.

"Sorry, that was a downer," I say lightly.

He shakes his head quickly. "No, it's okay. It's not your fault you've had boyfriends before." He's still avoiding my eyes, and there's a strange distance to his voice. A sliver of unease worms its way into my stomach.

Scrambling for something to change the topic, I point at one of the paintings on the wall behind him. It's an oil painting of the famous Greek temple, although the name is on the tip of my tongue. "Ever been?"

He swivels in his seat. "The Parthenon?" Damn, that was it. "Nope, I've never even left the States - wait, except when we went to Baja. I went to the one in Nashville, though."

"Oh yeah?"

He shrugs, and a nostalgic smile touches his lips. "Yeah. We went on a roadtrip when I was ... Heck, maybe eleven? Mom was always into those Greek myths, and I'd just started reading those Percy Jackson books, so we convinced my dad to drive a hundred miles out of our way to go see it." He chuckles. "It was pretty cool, but Dad said it wasn't worth the cramp in his legs."

I laugh. He meets my gaze again, and with a little coaxing, he talks his way through the whole trip, up to and including the Grand Canyon - or the 'Grand Appointment', as his sister called it. (Something about expecting it to be a disappointment compared to the hype, but it actually meeting expectations.) By the time he's finishing the tale, our plates are empty minus a few dregs of sauce, and I'm regretting wearing such a tight dress.

"Howdy, folks. How was your food?" The waitress asks, appearing next to me. I jump as she starts clearing my plate before reaching for Jack's. As she picks it up, though, his knife teeters on the edge of the plate before somersaulting into his lap and flicking sauce all over his shirt and pants. "Oh gosh, I'm so, so sorry," she says quickly, putting the plate down and handing him a napkin from the next table.

Jack is already dabbing at the splotches with his own napkin. "Don't worry about it," he grumbles.

I help the waitress clear away the rest, and she spares me a grateful look. As she whisks away to the kitchen, I ask her for the bill, then turn back to Jack. "You didn't want dessert, did you?"

"Nah," he sighs, still dabbing at his clothes. "Ah, damn, that ain't coming off." With a shrug, he puts the napkin aside. "Did you?"

I shake my head. "I'm way too stuffed," I smirk.

The waitress returns, and despite my protests, Jack insists on paying for my food too. As a compromise, I handle the tip. (No, not that tip - jeez, get your mind out of the gutter.) As we get up to leave, I notice him glancing down at the stains on his clothes. Mostly they're just a few flecks here and there, but a white smear on his thigh is hard to miss.

"Hey, it's not too bad," I say, trying to reassure him. "You can barely see most of it."

Jack raises a disbelieving eyebrow as we step outside into the bright sunlight. He points at the smear on his thigh. "And that bit?"

"Just looks like you got a little excited," I smirk. Slipping my hand into his, I gesture at my minidress. "Not surprising, really. I mean, you were on a date with me, after all."

For a split-second, he narrows his eyes, and I'm worried I overstepped. Then he snorts out a laugh and squeezes my hand. "Touché."

Pulling me a little closer, he leans in ever so slightly, and my breath catches in my throat and my heart starts to race as lust sparkles in his soft brown gaze. I bite my lip. We're in the middle of a busy street, and yet suddenly all I can think about is the touch of his hands on my skin. Damn my horny body.