Who Knows?

"Tell me, darling."

Dinner was amazing. The restaurant was a cozy Italian place, with red and white checkered table cloths, a candlelight atmosphere, and complimentary olives and bread. Free appetizers are always a win if you ask me.

The food was delicious enough to elicit a small moan from me after the first bite and I was instantly confronted with a warning yet lust-induced glaze from Eli. I only smirked at him and continued to dig into my food. The mood between Eli and I was carefree and light all night, he was right to talk before dinner about our fight. He can actually be a funny guy when he wants and I laughed quite a lot during our first 'real' date. He let out a few laughs as well and since they are rare with him I soaked those up like the first sunlight after a cold and dark winter. He told me a bit more about his childhood and his parents and when he mentioned that he would be sure they'd love me, I swear my heart stuttered a little. I kept my excitement at bay though, not wanting to freak him out.

The mood dampened for a minute when he asked me things about my parents and I told him that they never really seemed to care about me, that they think of me more as a burden than anything else. He looked at me with empathy and a little anger, too, probably toward my parents. I took his hand and assured him not to worry about it. I learned to deal with it and I turned it into something good, my incredible cooking skills. Luckily, my self-flattery got him to crack a smile and I quickly changed the topic.

Now we are on our way back home, Eli's truck racing down the street. Our hands entwined, just like on our way to the restaurant, resting on my lap. My thumb absentmindedly strokes the rough skin on his hands, calloused from work. I watch the trees go by on the side of the road for a while before I turn to my left to look at Eli. His muscles look less tense and his hand is relaxed on the steering wheel. My eyes roam his face, admiring his handsome features, my lips wanting to kiss them all over. Get a fucking grip, Romy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" his tone one of amusement.

"I'm not staring, I'm merely admiring," I shrug with a smile.

"Hm," he grumbles and makes a noise in the back of his throat.

"The name I put you under in my phone suits you perfectly, you know?" I smugly let him know.

"Is that so?" he feigns disinterest. 

"Yup," I pop the 'p'.

I wait but he doesn't say anything further.

"You don't want to know what it is?" I question.

He shrugs his shoulders in response.

"It starts with 'big'," I coax him and it works. His eyebrows raise for a second before he composes himself again.

"Nice try," he laughs. "You haven't seen it yet so I know that that's not what you're talking about."

I huff. "I've felt it, though," I mumble. My hand leaves his in order to cross my arms in front of my chest. 

Eli laughs again and squeezes my thigh with his now free hand, moving it upward on my leg. The tips of his fingers disappearing under the hem of my skirt.

"Tell me, darling. What name did you give me?" he now inquires.

"I'm not sure if you still deserve to know," I snip and slap at his hand.

He doesn't seem to care as his hand crawls even higher, his fingers almost touching my white lace thong. I can feel the heat seeping from his skin into mine and my breathing hitches when he gives my thigh another, firmer squeeze.

"Pretty please?" he murmurs, his eyes not straying from the road.

"It's 'big ol' grump'," I mumble and he smirks.