Our first date went like most first dates go, an average start to what would be a far from average relationship.

No telltale signs of impending doom, no hint of Romeo and Juliet like tragedy in the distance.

I spent close to two hours getting ready; the moment I got home from work I'd hopped in the shower and exfoliated my body within an inch of its life.

I'd stared at my razor for a minute more than a minute. Do I shave? Was that setting myself up? For something good or bad…

I mean I was far from object to the idea of fucking James. But on the first date?

No…I was going to make him wait, I vowed right there in the shower. No first date fucks, no one night stand after dinner.

Plus, I was on my period, so that seemed like a sign from the gods. Bloody and to the point. Period sex is fine and all(we're all adults here, right? Sometimes period sex could be more then fine), but not with some guy on a first date.

So I decide against shaving and hop out, wrapping myself in my robe with a sense of pride and levelheadedness. Fuck, this must be what true adulthood feels like.

That was until I started getting ready. The restaurant he'd told me we we're going to was a new place in Uptown, near the Art district. So nice enough for a first date, but casual enough that I defiantly should show up in a floor length gown…

Or should I?

Ugh.

I always did have a nasty knack for overdressing. We could be having a movie night at some ones house and I'd take the time to contour my face. My friends hated me for it.

Makeup was a secret passion of mine. I had a theory that it was for most girls, that the ones who didn't love it just hadn't discovered it yet, because holy fuck to have the power to go from bare faced and acne scarred to a glam goddess was life changing. I smoked my eyes out with warm, complimentary tones and defined my cheekbones with purpose, feeling more and more confident as I went.

I liked myself naked faced, bags, acne scars and all. I'd had twenty five years to get there. But just because I accepted myself makeup less and looking like a new born monkey didn't mean I couldn't love myself with false eyelashes that could nearly take flight and my hair styled and bouncy and not in its wild curly natural state.

Being in control of the way I looked, of the way I presented myself made me feel powerful.

Womanly and strong.

Hear me roar and all that.

Who said feminism and makeup couldn't go hand in hand?

I end up in a knotted white tee, and skinny fit black jeggings with pair of kaki green heeled strappy sandals on my feet and dainty gold jewelry on my neck and fingers.

Casual enough to not look like I was trying too hard.

Right?

I send a picture of my outfit in a group message to my friends because 'help hookers, do I look alright?'

They're quick positive replies make me smile, make a wave of gratefulness wash over me.

I give myself a good spritz of perfume; one that smelled light and floral and warmly sweet but not in a choking way before fluffing my hair as I look into my vanity mirror. Pleased. Nervous. Irritated at being nervous.

I hated being nervous. I had worked on keeping said emotion at bay for years, so when it reared its ugly head I couldn't help but feel my skin crawl.

Ever late, I'm still sitting at my mirror when my phone chimes.

I'm out front is the text from James and my response is to stand up so fast it almost makes me woozy and grab a cropped leather jacket from my disheveled closet, shrugging it on as grabbed the bag I'd chosen for the night and applied one last blotting of nude, blush colored lipstick, running my ringer along the corner edges of my lips to perfect it.

Fuck.

Here goes noting.

I walk out of my apartment and into the warm Texan outside, clicking down the stairs, the small path, and then into the parking lot. My eyes scan the lot, just for a moment. Not having to look far because James is outside of his SUV(shiny and new looking, I'm not even going to pretend like I knew the make or model of. I'd never been a car girl) leaning against the driver's side door as he sucked on the end of a cigarette.

He's tall and dark, dressed again in a leather jacket and dark jeans. And handsome.

God almighty. Is he fucking handsome. Looking like a character that'd walked straight out of an classic black and white movie about pretty girls in bell dresses and boys with slicked back hair who drove motorcycles.

Tell me about it, stud.

I give him a small hug in greeting, because I am and have always been a hugger and he opens my door for me, closing it when I pull my legs in. Real gentleman like.

"You look nice" James comments, his voice that sexy silken husk of his and I swallow the semi flushed grin that threatens to envelope my face.

"So do you. We're twins tonight" I tease, referring to the fact that we both seem to be donning leather jackets. "So, have you ever been here before? To the restraint I mean?"

"No, but I've heard good things about it. It should be good"

I was secretly pleased, that he'd taken the incentive to pick a place for us to eat. It made heat stir in my middle; admiration? I was a little impressed. Most guys would sit and grill me about where I wanted to go and it could literally go on for hours-because who can pick when put on the spot like that?

The thing I hate about first dates, even that first date with James, is the resistance. That thin film like filter that seems to be between you and your date because neither of you know each other from jack. No one knows their boundaries yet, it's all testing the water and how was your days? Safe topics that wouldn't rub anyone the wrong way.

You see? I hate safe topics.

I had always been a bit inappropriate in the fact that I wanted to talk about anything and everything.

So when we get to the restaurant, that's super cute by the way; with its high beamed wooden ceilings and open patio seating(very art district sheik) and are seated( quickly, luckily, because James had been smart enough to make reservations at the popular spot) at a little booth I start to creep out of the safe zone.

"So, let's get all the boring shit out of the way, yeah?"

He looks amused, his chocolate eyes questioning, but open. "Boring shit?"

"Yeah. Where did you grow up? What do you do for a living? Are you working on your 401k? Boring shit like that" I inform him lightly as I look over the menu, the drinks in particular.

"You wanna' go first or should I?"

"I'll go" I smiled, pageant like, playful, before explaining that I was a Dallas native, psych major, who worked at an insurance company call center. Cat person. Obviously.

"Well we're not going to get along at all because I'm a dog person all the way" James is good natured tonight, a lot more talkative then he was when I'd met him at the bars with his friends. I wondered if that was something he did a lot, flip on and off.

"I grew up in Baton Rouge- I lived there til I was legal and then high tailed" He starts, sipping on the bottled beer he had ordered.

He was nice to the waiter too, no snapping of his fingers or anything like that which I always looked out for.

"Where's your accent?" I tease.

"Where's yours?" He teases right back and I nod. Touche. Though some of my words did have a southern twinge, I didn't have much of southern accent either.

"I joined the army when I was eighteen, you know promised patriotism and all that shit, and served for almost ten years"

"Fuck, ten years? That's a long time. Where we're you deployed?"

"All over the middle east; Afghanistan mostly but I spent some time in Syria and Iraq too" I search his face for any trace of unease, of hesitance at the subject but there was none I could find so I pressed on.

"What did you do there? I mean I don't know much about like military ranks and stuff?" I sip on the frozen margarita the waitress had brought me.

Alcohol(the greatest love hate relationship of my life) was good on first dates.

Loosened everything up.

"I was a sniper mostly. Was a ranger for a little before that"

Okay, now I could see a little bit of hesitance, and I was smart enough to change the subject. I was studying psychology for god sakes, I knew when someone needed a breather.

"That's interesting. What do you do now? I mean if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, I don't. I work in business sales"

Smooth fucker. Looking back now made me go into hysterical laughter. Business sales. It wasn't a lie. He just didn't tell me what kind of business, and I didn't ask.

When I was half way through my margarita and we we're munching on our dinner, was when that super boring first date veil started to lift.

James' a funny fucker. His humor dry and receptive and it bounces off my own in bounds as we go back and forth.

He's somehow more handsome when he laughs, his crow's feet and laugh lines deep and crinkly.

I learn that his favorite place in the world was at a little bakery in Shreveport, and that he didn't really speak with either of his parents that were both still living, and that he liked his steak so raw it was practically mooing.

And I explained that I could spend hours in random book stores, and talk endlessly about saving the bee's and was raised by my teacher of a grandmother so I had a gnarly case of grammar nazitis-

And that my mom had died when I was seventeen.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that" He says it soft, but not coddling or overly sympathetic. He says it like he knows how it feels, like he's tasted his own mouthful of death.

"No, it's totally fine. It was a long time ago" Nearly ten years ago.

And then he lets me change the subject back to bubbling, easier topics like that news story I'd read on my Facebook time line and how weird it was that he didn't have a Facebook.

"I don't see the point. It's for staying in touch with people right? How many of those people do you ever actually get together with? I think it's a bunch of unnesiccary drama"

"Are you a spy? Only spy's and people who are secretly married don't have Facebooks"

James laughs. Hard. Shaking his head at me "No I'm not a spy and I'm pretty sure I'm not married"

"Pretty sure?"

"Well I mean there was this one time in Afghanistan…"

See that humor of his?

He thinks it's ridiculous how much I "believe" in Astrology. I tell him he shouldn't knock things he hasn't taken the time to look into and he doesn't really argue with me or try to make me feel stupid about my obsession like other guys have in the past.

"I've actually gotten really good at guessing sun signs" I gloat after I swallow a mouthful of the grilled mushroom chicken I'd ordered.

"Sun sign?" His eyebrows raise a little, confused.

"What you know as your zodiac sign"

"Okay, guess mine then" He challenges as he cuts his steak, his eyes never leaving mine though.

Talkative yet reserved. Funny, but in a dry kind of way that most people wouldn't pick up on. Social, merciual, and modest even though he looked like he could be on 'Peoples hot 100's list'…

Yeah. I'd known since the first meeting at the bar, or at least I'd had a feeling.

"You're a Virgo" I guess, hoping I'm not wrong and making a total fool out of myself. "Am I right?"

He looks blank for a second; he's got a hell of a poker face, before a he gives me a straight toothed grin.

"How'd you know?"

"A magician never reveals his tricks, duh" I reply coyly, the look I give him playful and vexing. Not backing down as he looks right back at me, with those intense brown eyes that had I been standing would have made my fucking knees weak.

"You have beautiful eyes" He rasps as he leans his arm on the table, his eyes flicking over my face a little "I'm sure you've been told that before"

Yeah, since, like, birth. But coming from him was something waaaay different. The way he looked at me when he said it…

"Yeah, but it's still nice to hear, thank you" I tear my gaze away, trying to keep the thrills in my stomach at bay.

See, like I said, it was just a regular first date. A damn good one, in my opinion, because I'd never had a first date where I felt that much magnetism before, but regular.

No dodging bullets or drug busts.

Just me, trying to get a read on this beautiful specimen of a man.

"Thanks for dinner, It was fun" I beam at him, unbuckling my seat belt, as I angle my body to where it's facing his as we pull into my apartment lot. I'm feeling warm, from that margarita and from the fact that I'd managed to get through the night without doing any thing damagingly clumsy like usual.

Because I wasn't clumsy in the cute, quirky way. I was clumsy in the stain my shirt(severely) or give myself a big ass bruise or accidentally break someone's car radio.

"It was, we should do it again" James comments from the driver's seat, the car set in park so that he could fully look at me too.

"I think that could probably be arranged"

A little grin quirks the side of his bearded mouth.

So attractive.

"I should make you wait for it, since it took you so long to call me" I point out, a devious look in my eyes. I like the way he reacts to that- to my playful toying side. His hickory eyes amused, entertained. No offense in sight.

He was obviously thick skinned.

Not all men were like that. I knew, I'd dated a few guys who couldn't take a joke and it had been such a fucking drag.

"That's not what I want…but If you have to, I'll wait"

That wasn't the reply I was expecting. I know it shows on my face.

"Really?"

"Yeah"

I can't help it; I search his face for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

I'd end up doing that countless times in the next couple of years, mapping the lines of his face with my eyes in an attempt to really understand him.

"I've been really wanting to see that new Saw movie- I know they're cheesy as shit, but do you want to come? Sunday? Maybe?" I request, taking the leap.

Maybe I was the one who couldn't force myself to wait?

"Sunday it is" James agrees and I feel like flying. Elated. Happy in a girlish, almost childish way.

"Okay, yeah, sounds good" I grab my purse, biting on my bottom lip a little.

That rush of daring surges up in me again. The kind that had reared its head back at the bar when I'd first met him. A sort of fuck it, I like him.

"Goodnight James" I reach over the console to press a kiss to his scruffy cheek. It's easy, casual seeming almost "I'll see you Sunday, kay?"

"Yeah..I'll see you. Goodnight, Kayleigh"

It's little memories like that. Ones from the times where we'd barely touched each other…from when everything was still so innocent that plague me. Because how would I have ever known what I was in for?

Okay so this James might seem a little OOC but when I was watching the show I noticed that he can be insanely charming. He has a good mask that he can put on for people and I definitely think he'd use that mask on a first date. For all of my Born to Die readers, that'll be updated sometime this eek. I just love writing a more...loose James romance. I want this story to be more real world and not drug world based.