World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

29.0

THE DESSERT

“You are so rude, aren’t you?” he tries to hide it but I know he is excited as fuck because of what I just said.

“I’m not rude,” I shake my head, “It would be a nice way to end the date, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe,” he frowns, “But…” he tries to say something but I can see he is struggling to find the words. I bet he is picturing myself naked already.

“You are so thirsty, bum,” I tease him, “We both want to do it, there’s no shame in that.”

“You suck, bubu.”

“Em, no?” I laugh, “You will suck,” I bite my lower lip, “A lot,” I add.

“Shut up,” he coughs nervously, “You are running it.”

“No, I’m not,” I keep going, “Look at how blushed you are. You want it.”

“Shut up already!”

“And I want it too, tourist,” I tease again, “I’d take you right here if I could.”

“You are so drunk and you need to shut up,” he laughs.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yes, you are,” he looks accusing, “And it’s funny because you should be good at drinking. I mean, you drink a lot but still, look at you.”

“I’m perfectly fine, I don’t know what you are talking about,” we both stay in silence while I pay for the dinner. He tries to take his wallet out but I don’t let him pay for anything.

“Thank you,” he smiles, “I owe you a meal.”

“No, you don’t,” I smile back, “Oh, wait. Maybe you do,” I enjoy the look on his face, “I can think of a few things you could do to pay me back.”

“I’m not a manwhore, if that’s what you are implying,” he tries to play offended but he knows I’m kidding.

“Let’s see about that later,” I keep my eyes focused on him and I can tell I making him feel stuff. I like that.

“You are not going to take me to the hotel right now,” he says as we leave the restaurant, “It’s too soon for this date to end.”

“I know,” I open the exit door for him.

“Such a gentleman, bubu.”

“I was kidding before,” I excuse myself, “I have other stuff planned for tonight.”

“Do you?”

“I do,” I grab his hand as we walk to our next destination, “It’s not that the thing I mentioned before is not going to happen because, just so you know, it is going to happen,” I wink at him, “But we are going somewhere else before I give you the honor to,” I lower my voice because there’s too much people around us, “Take a ride on this Ferrari.”

“You are so full of rubbish, you douche,” he laughs, “Where are we going now?”

“There’s this bar a few blocks away from here. They are supposed to have the best drunken desserts in town,” I sound excited.

“Drunken desserts?”

“Yeah, you know. Like Margarita Cakes and Tequila Muffins, all that kind of shit,” I turn to look at him, “Do you wanna go?”

“Sure, let’s go,” we walk in silence for a while, “We need to work on your manners though. Tequila Muffins and all that kind of shit,” he mocks me.