Y'all know me and my team. I know you're only interested in one thing. hahaha xx
-58-
"Tell me about your mom," Bella requests, bringing the glass of wine to her lips and tilting it back to sip. It shouldn't be as erotic as it is, but her lips press against the fragile glass in a way that makes me think of other things I'd like her to press them to.
Suffice it to say, it's very difficult to force my mind away from that train of thought and towards my mother, but my dick appreciates the pressure being alleviated a bit.
"She's...she's a force, let's put it that way," I laugh. "Dad wasn't around a lot growing up. That's not to say he neglected us because when he was around, it was true, quality time. But Mom was always making sure we felt loved and taken care of. She's very kind, until you piss her off. A lot like you, actually."
Bella smiles, glancing down and possibly even blushing a bit. It's such a contrast to what I've seen from her in person before; my heart can't take it.
"She was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago, and she worries about me a lot, so I've been trying to sort of...get my shit together."
"I'm so sorry. Why does she worry about you?" Before I know it, her hand is lying on top of mine. Soft and warm and comforting, in a way I would never have expected. How can a hand make me feel so...fuzzy?
What the ever-loving fuck is happening to me?
"Uh," I sigh, weighing the different ways to tell my date I'm an emotionally stunted asshole. "Basically, I'm an emotionally stunted asshole."
Good. Great. Fantastic.
Luckily, she laughs, saving me, if only a little.
"Come on, you're not that bad," she offers.
"No, I'm not. I just work a fuck ton; I've never really had time for relationships."
"Really?" One perfectly arched eyebrow raises, her grin turning a little more playful and teasing.
"What, it's not obvious? I'm not the dating type," I state, laughing.
"No, you're definitely the hit it and quit it player type, huh?" The way she says it isn't unkind; it's really not. She's still smiling, still teasing, but also giving me a little bit of hell at the same time.
I'd be lying if I said it didn't send up a red flag. On some level, it feels like she's digging for information.
"I wouldn't say I'm a player. But I'm also no saint," I shrug.
"Mm," she hums, leaning towards me. Her hand is still on mine, and she brings her other hand up to rest her chin in her palm, her elbow on the table. "No scorned ex-lovers I need to worry about?"
