“We don’t?” I ask. “This is news to me.”
His eyebrow raises. “You don’t need to pretend for me. I want you to be comfortable. The humans I’ve dated in the past?—”
“If you want me to be comfortable, then you shouldn’t bring up women that you’d dated in the past,” I grumble.
He swallows hard, but continues anyway. “They didn’t appreciate my more monstrous ways.”
“Ahh… I see. Is that why you are wearing the—” I gesture to his outfit.
“It makes me feel more human. I thought you liked the way I look in a suit?”
“I do like the way you look in a suit. I like the way that you look in most things.” I shake my head, shocked I’m admitting these things out loud. Even if we aren’t going to stay together, it still feels important to get it off my chest. I don’t want him to think he did something wrong. “I don’t mind if you don’t act human. You aren’t human. I want—shit.” My brain jumbles up all my thoughts the way it always does when I just need to get words out. “You know. I Googled you, after you offered me this dating deal—thing. I looked you up online, and I saw pictures of you with the other women that you’ve dated. They didn’t exactly look like me.”
“I’ve dated human women before.”
“They were human women, but they were all—” I inhale, knowing that I’m about to open a can of worms that I might notbe prepared for, “they were all skinny. With perky little breasts and low BMIs. Beautiful women, certainly. It’s fine, of course. They all had good jobs, money, and status.” The words fall out of me in a rush.
“What does that have to do with anything?” He scowls.
“If I were to follow that thought to its natural conclusion, I’d assume that you don’t find me attractive.” I adjust myself in my seat, sitting up straighter. “I’m comfortable with my body most of the time, but why would you want to date me when you usually date women who are much thinner and richer than me?”
His fist closes tightly around his fork. “Beast, you are perfect. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you or your body.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Of course not. I like you exactly the way you are. I think you are perfect. Just because of something you saw in my past, you shouldn’t assume—” he pauses, “I see.”
“You shouldn’t make assumptions about what people want. You don’t want me to change, and I don’t need you to change.” I point at him with my fork. “And fuck those women for making you feel like you couldn’t be yourself around them. We will both be ourselves, in our own skin. I will let you know when you have made me uncomfortable.”
There is finally something almost like a smile creeping across his lips.
“Would you like to ask me anything about today?” I point to myself. “Like if I enjoyed myself?”
“Did you enjoy yourself today?” he asks.
“I had a lot of fun. A lot. I learned how to fish with my hands, that river rocks can be very slippery, and that I should not run away from a Bigfoot unless I am ready to deal with the consequences.”
He freezes. “Bailey, I will never?—”
“And, when I am ready to deal with the consequences, believe me, I will let you know,” I say quickly before he can finish. It’s a terrifying thing to promise. It may be a bad idea, but my brain is determined to try it before I leave him.
His face relaxes a little. “Thank you, my beast.”
There is a long moment of quiet, which is broken by the scrape of his chair legs across the floor as he stands before removing his suit jacket, folding it neatly, and draping it over the back of a chair. The little signal of trust makes my heart flutter.
Then he unbuttons his shirt enough for some of his copious chest hair to peek out, reminding me of the unfettered view I was presented earlier today, and that makes my coochie flutter.
“Maybe you’ll get another chance to teach me to fish?” I suggest.
“I would enjoy seeing you wet again.” He gives me a very small, very promising, smirk.
“That’s probably doable.” I bite my lip, and he looks at me with his big brown eyes that make the room feel lighter. “Dinner was fantastic. Maybe you could teach me how to cook as well.”
“I cooked a lot of meals when we were just a start-up without any money for food. A lot of that was cheap ramen, or beans and rice, but I’m glad the skills I acquired can finally impress someone.” He starts clearing the empty dishes from the table.
I lean back in my chair, watching Sacha carefully roll up his sleeves and starts washing dishes. The night is young, I’m not tired, and I want to spend more time with him. “I only wish that, maybe, we had something for dessert.”
“Check in the cupboard over there.” Sacha nods to a cabinet.
