Take My Breath Away

Chapter 8

Dean POV:

I shrug, the same little smirk that I have earlier coming back. I know Seth is a little shy, but I also realize if I push him the right way, he will snap. At the thought, I speed up just a little, not too much over the speed limit, but just the right amount to get us to our destination quicker.

I keep glancing at him from the corner of my eye, knowing that he knows this is odd. Knowing he is anxious, never being with someone other than the small number of friends he has in his complete life. I know he is something different. I like it.

Driving the car at a reasonable speed with a shy guy is perfectly thrilling. I will never be able to do this with anyone else, but he has manipulated, apparently. And although I don't want to maneuver him, I know I have to.

"If I die in this car, I'm gonna haunt your ass." He promises, holding the seatbelt securely. A smile creeps on my lips because it indeed works. He even closes his eyes and says a brief prayer as I continue speeding the car.

When we reach a restaurant, I feel a lump in my throat. I wonder if the younger man is excited, though. A tiny grin is on my expression as I cut the engine and get out of the car. "You plan on getting out, or what?" I ask, and then he realizes that I have pocketed my keys already and standing out by the window.

He gets out of the car, and his feet stumble awkwardly again. He almost trips and falls on his face in the process of closing the door, but I put a hand on his shoulder and catch him. He smiles and nods quietly. "Thank you."

Inside, the restaurant is pretty empty, which I've expected because being out as gay isn't something proud in the wrestling world. If I'm going to be flaunting my sexuality in front of everyone's faces, I can't make it in the big leagues, so I have to hide our relationship that's going to bloom. And I'm sure he will understand.

Seth POV:

I follow him quietly as Dean leads the way to one of the booths at the far corner of the restaurant. My eyes are counting the checkered black-and-white tiles on the floor as I walk. Sitting in front of him was something that I would call extraordinary.

His forearms rest on the table, left one on top of his right, and he leans in extra close, his torso nearly press against the table. His eyes stand out and appear even bluer than they usually are, and they focus on me the entire time. They only glance elsewhere at the window or the neon lights beside us.

I stay quiet, only talking when a waitress has come to take our order. He and I order the same thing: Fries and a chocolate milkshake. "Can you do me a favor there and add an extra cherry, Donnie?" He asks, charming her.

I smile a bit as he compliments her earrings. The whole waiting for the food part is a little awkward because neither of us is talking first. But when he finally starts talking, he won't stop. Asking me about my family, friends, job, and everything.

Even after I offer him the shortest answers that I can come up with, he isn't satisfied. He continues asking and talking and talking even after we get our food. "Why are you so uncomfortable?" He asks, placing his hand on mine.

I sink in my seat a bit and lean back. "I don't know. I'm just not... used to this."

"Used to what?" He asks loudly, dipping some fries into his milkshake and shoving them all into his mouth at once. "Going on dates with guys like me on Sunday afternoons? Can't blame you."

My brows furrow at his words, so I encourage myself and defend, "Excuse me? It's not a date."

He mimics my actions and leans back against his seat as well, arms crossed, legs outstretched and brushing against mine. "It exactly is."

"No, it's not!" I say, a little too defensively and a little too loudly. "I don't even know you other than you're a WWE Superstar!"

"Sure you do!" He grins, wrapping his arms over his chest.

"No, Dean. I don't." I glare at the man in front of me. "A few days ago, I met you at the diner just like another customer. But you decided to call me despite my protests, and you decided to pick me up in your car earlier, and you invited me out for lunch. It was all you."

He looks at me delighted again, like earlier in the car. His lips are curled into a tiny smirk, his cheeks exposing his dimples. "Calm down, kitten. It's not a big deal. I have a feeling that we can get along since the day I've met you, but you are scaring shitless.."

"Okay, that's enough." I interrupt, throwing my hands in the air. "I get it." After a long silence, I calm my nerves and look into his eyes. I raise my finger and point at him to address the comment. "What do you want?"

"Come over here and love me." He starts leaning forward and twirling his finger in my hair. "Don't point your finger at me over every little thing, okay, kitten? We'll be good. Hurry with your fries. I want to take you elsewhere." He grins, taking a long sip of his milkshake.

"No, you're taking me to the diner after this," I reply, glaring at him again.

"If you don't shut up and eat your fries, I swear on my soul that I will get up onto this table and serenade you." He warns me, but I open my mouth to talk about something. Instead of arguing with me, he leans forward, left foot on the seat, about to climb up onto the table.

"No, no, no, no! Dean." I whisper harshly, yanking him down. "I'll be quiet."