Chapter 7: A Nice Date
Rhiannon's POV
Rhiannon brushed through her hair again. It was a result of the nerves at this point, she had been ready for an hour at least. What was she doing? She should call him and tell him not to come. This game was going too far.
She couldn't stop thinking about his hands on her in the storage room. Lauren had demanded details, then made her repeat it probably three or four times before they went home Wednesday night.
John hadn't come in last night; Thursdays were usually slow anyway. She hated that she had wanted to see him. She told herself it was the attention she craved. The banter, even. But she wanted to see him. She wanted to be touched by him again.
Maybe he would stand her up. She had Lauren on standby just in case of that very scenario. Lauren had told her she was being insane, that there was no way he would miss an opportunity to fawn over her, but Rhiannon wasn't convinced. The minutes ticked closer to six and she hadn't heard anything from him.
A tap sounded on the door. It was so soft that she wasn't sure she had heard anything at all. Two more quick, quiet taps came from the door.
Rhiannon went to the door and peered out the peephole. Nothing. She was losing her mind. She turned back to the mirror she had in the entryway. She smoothed a hand over her maroon skin tight dress. She shifted in her tall black heels nervously. Lauren had told her she looked hot when they had Facetimed earlier, but her confidence was faltering.
A shower of something hit against the door. She listened to the metallic clack of whatever it was as it rained down the fire escape. She whipped the door open and stepped out. John dropped a handful of gravel.
"But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun," John called up to her.
Rhiannon smiled and shut the door behind her, locking it and traipsing down the stairs as John continued.
"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she."
He offered a crooked elbow to Rhiannon as she descended the stairs. She took it, and he led her to where he had somehow managed to back his car down into the little alley. He opened the door for her. "You look beautiful."
She slipped into the car, a black Porsche, and looked up at him. She gave him a genuine smile as a reward for his chivalry. "You clean up pretty nice yourself," she offered.
They would look ridiculous at Hadley's. It was a grimy little restaurant, the kind of place you knew you could get a good meal, but the atmosphere was questionable at best.
He wore a white button up, the top two buttons undone as usual. He was in gray slacks and black loafers, a black belt around his waist. When he got into the car, she noted a thin gold necklace peeking out from under his shirt collar.
When he started the car up, some political podcast played through the speakers.
"What is this?" she laughed.
"I have to keep up with what's going on. I don't have time to sit and watch the news all day, this keeps me filled in."
Rhiannon rolled her eyes. "This is boring." She snatched his phone and closed out, opening YouTube and typing something in.
John's POV
He looked over at her, slightly nervous. He resisted the urge to snatch his phone back. He slid his eyes over her one more time. The dress was so tight she might as well have not worn anything at all, it left nothing to the imagination.
It didn't help that he couldn't get the memory of her soft skin out of his mind. The feeling of her thigh, her calf, against his palm. He must have lost his mind, it was the only way he could explain the boldness that had taken over in that storage room. Watching her eyes widen, watching her lips part, he couldn't get a moment's peace from the memory of it.
She reached for the radio and turned up the volume. "Much better," she told him with a grin.
He had to tear his eyes from her to keep his eyes on the road. He listened to her rap along with every word to "Slim Shady" by Eminem, resisted the urge to turn the volume to a reasonable level, and did his best to keep his focus on anything other than how she looked in that dress.
By the time they reached the restaurant, he had listened to her rendition of several more rap songs, some of which he didn't recognize at all, one Taylor Swift song, and a couple of old country songs. Her taste in music was as predictable as she was.
Rhiannon's POV
She sipped on her coke and watched as John mulled over the menu. The man was from Birmingham, maybe he had never been to Hadley's in all his time living in Huntsville. It was the only reason she could come up with that someone would spend so much time looking over a one page menu.
When the waiter arrived, she ordered a six ounce sirloin, rare of course, with mashed potatoes and french fries. He had looked like he was going to question her about ordering two different types of potatoes, but he had snapped his jaw shut and she was content with that. At least he was learning when to keep his mouth shut. He had ordered a rib eye, and she hadn't listened to the rest of his order because she didn't care.
"I guess we have a few years of ground to cover," he started. "What was college like?"
Rhiannon furrowed her brow. "Ugh, that's boring. College was boring. Tell me about the last time you heard a really good joke."
John shrugged. "Your dad is pretty funny. I probably heard one from him."
Rhiannon curled her lip slightly, a disgusted snarl playing at the corner of her lips. "That's who you want to bring up? You want to talk about my dad?" she asked incredulously.
John smiled. "I guess not. I don't think people really tell jokes anymore. Things are just either funny or not funny."
Rhiannon nodded. "You know, that's a good point. People don't tell good jokes anymore. You're rich, you should bring it back in style. Everybody knows that whatever rich people do, everybody else does so they look cooler."
"Do I look like I know a lot of good jokes?"
She shook her head. "No, and you should remember that next time you try to be funny."
He laughed. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."
She took a sip of her cola and looked back to him. "If you want to talk about school, what did you major in? It seems like it worked out pretty well."
He started filling her in on his finance major, telling her about how he had met her parents and Richard, filling her in on the kinds of things they got up to.
She told him about her English degree, about her writing, the failure with Wallace Publishing.
John's POV
They felt like friends. The tension dissipated and they were two people talking about life and where they came from. John felt something stir in his chest as she told a story explaining how she had accidentally broken a window at his river house one weekend when she was in high school.
It had been a long time since anyone besides David or Rich had been this easy to talk with. It seemed like he lived in a world of strangers. Everyone was constantly trying to impress him or get to his money. Oftentimes, he found himself guilty of trying to impress the people around him, working hard to move up the next rung on the ladder. But this, this was easy. She was intelligent, she was funny, she was caring.
Rhiannon's POV
Rhiannon laughed as John recounted a particularly bad date he had been on a few months ago. She felt like they had so much in common. When he wasn't thinking so hard about being impressive, he was easy to get along with. He was observant and clever, he was charming and kind.
She bit her lip, feeling the sore spot where her lip was still healing. He gently ran a finger down her arm, toying with her ring finger. The hairs on her arms raised. His touch was electric.
When the waiter brought the check, he hadn't even looked at it, just handed him a card from his wallet. It wasn't showy, it wasn't intentionally trying to impress her, it was just the gesture of a man who didn't have to worry about budgets. Not like Hadley's was expensive, they had both watched a beetle make its way across the floor shortly after they sat down, it wasn't like it was a fancy steakhouse.
John's POV
As John walked with her to the car, he realized any of those hopes of showing her off at the bank were worthless. He didn't want a trophy. He wanted Rhiannon; he wanted her mind and her body. He wanted to flaunt her to the entire world but not because she was a prize he had won. He wanted the world to see her for the gem she was, brilliant and shimmering. He wanted to hold her, to love her, and to provide for her. He wanted to watch her flourish.
He didn't hesitate to let her choose the music on the ride back to her apartment. He even let himself sing along with the songs that he knew, but he stopped if he ever felt like she noticed. He had worked too hard for the reputation he had, he wouldn't let her go telling everyone he liked Lil Wayne from time to time.
He backed into the alley, careful to avoid the trash cans, a big blue dumpster, and the black rusty stairs that led to her door. He shut the car off and turned to look at her. Her eyes were unreadable. She ran her tongue along her bottom teeth, visible through her slightly parted lips. John got out of the car and helped her out, her body sliding against his. She turned to face him, a little smile dancing on her lips.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, a man possessed. Sparks lit her eyes, and he leaned in, desperate to kiss those full lips. She ducked her head.
"Careful Icarus, you're getting too close to the sun. I'm not that kind of girl," she purred. She stepped out of his grasp and flitted up the stairs, pausing in front of the door. "Thank you for dinner," she called down to him.
"I'd like to do it again sometime," he answered.
She grinned, devilishly this time. "I bet you would. Maybe I'll let you convince me sometime."
"Game on," he laughed.