Alas, I’d gone this long so I could survive another few months until I got home. I wasn’t at an extreme level of desperation, and I couldn’t imagine the awkward conversation with Corbin if I had to tell him to ignore any noises he heard coming from my room.
“Shelbs, you’re beautiful, you know that right?”
I looked over at him, my face flaming only further emphasising the constant pink of my cheeks thanks to my rosacea. “You’re the best,” I answered with a quick squeeze of his arm, ignoring the way my body prickled under his assessment, my skin tingling at the warmth of his skin.
“Now let’s get a drink and you can tell me why your apartment looks as though no one lives there,” I pivoted unexpectedly, causing Corbin to laugh and my chest to flutter. That sound was fast becoming my favourite melody.
“You are so random,” he said between laughter.
“That is not an answer,” I grinned, as we snagged a couple of seats at the full outdoor hotel bar overlooking the vineyard we’d walked earlier.
“What are you drinking?” He handed me the menu before ordering a local beer for himself.
“Definitely not beer,” I scowled. “Like I said, I’m thinking that given the location I will have wine. What do you suggest?” I asked the awaiting barman.
“She’ll have a glass of the Margan White Label Semillon,” Corbin interrupted, and I flicked my gaze up at the slight edge to his voice. With the way he was glaring at our server, there was something I missed.
He scampered away to make our drinks, and I raised an inquisitive brow at my angry pal.
“He was looking at you like you’re ripe for the picking,” he snarled, and I glanced back at the barman before returning my gaze to Corbin.
“Gosh, I’m totally oblivious, I didn’t even notice. Wouldn’t matter how desperate for touch I was, I’d rather eat chalk than go near him,”I whispered to Corb who was still watching our drinks being poured as if his life depended on it. He didn’t relax until we each had our glasses and even then, I had to grip his forearm to really garner his attention.
“You good?”
“Yeah, fine,” he answered apologetically with a brief shake of his head. “How’s the wine?”
I spun in my seat to face him, my legs positioned between his before taking a sip.
“Oh, Christ,” I moaned. “It’s delicious,” I cooed, taking another sip. I’d never been a great wine drinker so I could only have a few, but this was sweet with hints of honeyed almonds, and it was divine.
Corb watched as my tongue darted out to lap at the taste of the bubbles lingering on my mouth. Suddenly shy, I rolled my lips together and smiled awkwardly. His gaze was gentle but attentive.
Was he checking me out?
It wasn’t overt or bold, but it was there, the kind of look that starts with curiosity and lingers just a second too long to be innocent. His eyes found mine again, and he shook his head briefly like he was trying not to stare but couldn’t quite help it. There was a softness to it, almost curious, like I’d surprised him and the air in my chest thinned, replaced by a sudden, dizzy rush I didn’t know what to do with.
“We should have some oysters.” Corbin cut through my thoughts, and I nodded emphatically, reaching for my wine for something to do with my hands.
“We definitely need oysters,” I replied after a tactical pause to clear my mind of my inappropriate thoughts.
“While we wait, tell me about the abandoned bachelor pad.” I said, hoping he didn’t notice the way my cheeks felt warmer than they did a minute a go.
Rolling his eyes, I grinned against my glass. I enjoyed pushing his buttons and I think he liked it too if his slight smirk was anything to go by.
He ordered our food and took another drink while I used the time to watch him intently, letting him know I would wait as long as it took to get my answer. I could already feel the tingle of bubbles coursing through me, meaning my lips were going to be looser in approximately thirty-one seconds. I was a lightweight and this was going down too easily.
“I have everything I need,” he replied finally, and I grinned.
“You have barely anything.”
“Exactly. I spend more time in the office than at home, so I don’t need a lot,” he added with a shrug.
“But surely you need things for your weekend or when you have people over?”
He huffed as if what he was about to confess pained him. “I don’t really see many people outside of work. And I spend most weekends working,” his last words were mumbled, causing me to narrow my eyes. How did someone as great as Corbin not have a group of friends or a partner? And how did I not know he spent all his spare time working? I’d been a shitty friend, and I made a mental note to dig a little deeper into this.
“What about dating?” I asked, tongue in cheek. I wiggled my brows as if I wasn’t hanging on his reply. As if I was asking as a friend and not someone with a slightly more selfish interest in his dating history.
