I allowed myself a satisfied smile. Seb had insisted on poking the tiger. I hoped now he realized that even the most mild-mannered tigers had teeth.
“Have you decided what you’d like to eat?” Jones said.
I arched a questioning brow at Seb, whose cheeks were still flushed. “Oh, um…yes. Could your chef possibly make Hokkien mee?”
Jones didn’t blink an eye, although I did. “Of course,” Jones said. “And for you, Mr. Wright?”
“I’ll take sea bass, cooked whichever way the chef thinks best. Plus, could we get a side of risotto and grilled vegetables?”
“Absolutely. I’ll let chef know immediately.”
Jones disappeared and I leaned back in the booth. “Hokkien mee? That’s a far cry from fried Twinkies,” I said.
Seb flashed me this adorable smile. “I hadn’t had a chance to think about what I wanted and was a little, um, distracted at the time, so that’s what came out. I do love it, though. I had it when I traveled around Malaysia one summer during college.”
His voice took on this soft, wistful tone. “Do you miss it? Traveling?” I asked.
He nodded. “I do. I miss wandering through other countries, taking in the historical sites and imagining what people were like back then, and what my life would have been like if I’d lived in those different time periods.” He laughed. “This probably sounds ridiculous to someone like you, but sometimes, I even pretend I’m a time traveler who’s suddenly been thrust into a different era and imagine how I’d react. Sort of like Doctor Who.”
Seb mistook my dazed silence for confusion. “You know who Doctor Who is, right? British TV show, blue telephone box that’s bigger on the inside.”
“I know what Doctor Who is. It’s just...I didn’t realize how similar we were in our approaches to traveling. I guess I pegged you more as a laze on the beach or party in youth hostels while backpacking around Europe type than someone who submerges themselves in the history of a place,” I admitted.
“Ha! That’s what you get for making assumptions. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m not cultured. I am an anthropology student, after all.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “So you’re saying you don’t like lazing on a white sand beach, being fanned by ocean breezes and the smell of tropical flowers?”
“Whoa now, don’t get carried away. A man can contain multitudes,” Seb said.
I snorted and he pounced. “What, are you telling me you don’t enjoy relaxing on a beautiful island beach, without a care in the world beyond where your next piña colada is coming from, and if you applied enough sunscreen?”
I maintained my haughty expression until Seb’s smile started to falter and then I sighed my defeat. “Okay, fine. Perhaps I do enjoy the occasional beachside beverage—although I prefer mojitos to piña coladas.”
“I knew it! You’re not as stuffy as you like to pretend.”
I raised a brow at him over my wine. “I rather thought I’d proven that a few minutes ago,” I said, referring to my recent under-the-table exploits.
The faint pink that spread across Seb’s cheeks was like the blush across an early morning sunrise, and his reaction delighted me far more than it should.
“So which places that you’ve visited so far are your favorites?” I said, after sipping my wine.
“Oh, gosh, that’s tough.” He nibbled his lower lip for moment. Completely innocent, but I had to advert my eyes anyway. “I’d probably have to say the Chang’an-Tianshan Corridor in China, Easter Island in Chile, and if we’re talking continental US, then Mesa Verde National Park.”
My gaze flew back to his face so I could study his features for a hint that he was playing me. The sparkling eyes that met mine were guileless. “What is it?” he said. “You look alarmed. Did I make a travel faux pas without knowing it?”
“No,” I said slowly, relaxing back into the buttery leather of the booth. “It’s just...Chang’an-Tianshan Corridor is my favorite spot too. And Mesa Verde,” I added reluctantly.
His eyes lit up even more. “No way, really? What about Easter Island? Not your thing?”
“I haven’t actually been yet, but it’s on my bucket list,” I admitted.
“I could take you with me! I’d love to go back, the moai were amazing and I’ll admit, a little overwhelming the first time around.”
Seb launched into an animated discussion of Easter Island and all the wonders he’d show me, and the image he painted in my head—the two of us, exploring together, sharing both long days ferreting out details about an ancient civilization and long nights lounging together in the comfort of our shared bed—was tantalizing. Too tantalizing. Only a few short days before, I’d been loath to even contemplate a relationship with him based on very practical reasons and yet somehow, with a few words and smiles over dinner, he had me envisioning us as travel companions?
Oblivious to my sudden discomfort, Seb continued to wax poetic about Chile. I watched him gesture animatedly with a weird mix of emotions. We had even more in common that I’d originally realized, and something about that unnerved me. Deep down, I still didn’t believe this was anything more than a transient crush for him. The last thing I wanted to do was get too attached—especially given that my initial reservations were still valid.
Our meals came and were exquisite, as predicted. The food on the plates appeared to have been arranged by an artist rather than a chef: all swoops and swirls and artful splashes of color. With our curtains closed, we took turns feeding each other bites off our forks. The evening flew by quickly. Far too soon, Jones was bringing us the check and wishing us a good night.
When I dropped Seb at his apartment, he hesitated just outside his door with his keys dangling from his hand. I stepped in closer, until his quickened breath fanned against my cheek. When I leaned over him, his chest hitched. His wide-eyed gaze tangled with mine and ever-so-gently, I reached forward to stroke his pinky finger with my own. The smallest of touches and yet, current sizzled between us, like that ripple that you feel on a stormy day, just before the clouds erupt in a flash of lightning. I knew he was waiting for me to kiss him, which was part of the reason I decided to hold back. Instead of covering those sweet lips with mine, I whispered in his ear. “You’re going to have to wait a little longer, sweet Seb. Dream about me tonight.”
I nipped his earlobe and then reared back to see his reaction. To my surprise, Seb was staring at me with an oddly challenging expression. “I will...so long as you admit that you’ll be dreaming about me tonight, too.”
I shook my head, planning to leave without replying, but something about the hopeful tilt to his head made me pause. “Tonight is far from the first night I’ll be dreaming of you, and I imagine it will be far from the last as well.”
Frankly, I wasn’t sure who was more astonished by my revelation—him, or me. All I knew was that his mouth still gaped open when I finally turned and headed for my car.
5
Seb