Page 76 of Running
You don’t have to ask me twice, Goldie.
CHAPTER 24
Grace
After another kissing session under the gazebo, we decide we’d better get home. Only Johnson has an unmistakable bulge in front of his shorts that still hasn’t gone away, and we need to pass by Barry on the way out.
“Um, Grace. I’m going to carry the picnic basket strategically.”
I show mercy, volunteering to bring Barry his ‘thank you’ swag from the car so Johnson can stay out of the fray with his ‘predicament.’
Once I get back in the car, I can’t help giggling again.
I feel so free. Somewhere along our initial half-mile walk, I gave up all pretense of being anything but myself. For one, Johnson keeps making it clear he wants that. I also find I have zero appetite to censor myself around him, to be anything less than genuine.
If he doesn’t like me for me, then I guess this won’t work out.
The fact that we’re going on dates under the radar gives me a security blanket too. He would be the only one who knows if it didn’t last.
So far, all signs are good, though. Not just good,amazing.
He gives me a quick kiss again before turning the car on. “Best first date ever.”
As he gets us on the road, suddenly, it hits me. My list, it’s going to start being real. And as I look over at Johnson—yeah, he and I are going to be real too.
Which inspires a correction to a thought I had only a few weeks prior.
Now it’s…right time, right place, right guy.
He reaches over to hold my hand once he’s comfortably en route to his house, and we spend most of the drive in silence, just his music playing. His fingers tap in rhythm to the beat of the music within our handhold.
With the pleasant silence in the car allowing me to let my thoughts wander, I start to wonder how these two “activities” will work tonight. Being watched by an observer—whether it’s when I’m with someone or by myself—has been an ongoing fantasy of mine. There’s no way Johnson intends to have another person join us, so I’m curious what he has in mind.
My interest in watching him touch himself is more educational. I want to understand what he likes.
Peering back at Johnson as his head bobs slightly to the music, his fingers still playing on my hand, I realize he probably has a plan. Quarterback and all, probably has the “plays” drawn out.
I’ll not worry about it, so he can reveal what he has in mind when he’s ready.
We get to his house a few minutes later. He grabs the picnic basket and opens the door for me.
“Let me take this to the kitchen and get the leftovers in the fridge.”
“Sure,” I agree as I step out of the car.
Once inside, the tension ratchets up, at least for me. Not in a bad way, but out of anticipation about what we’re going to do tonight.
I force myself to stay patient though, as he throws the picnicbasket on his kitchen island, and swiftly puts away the food we didn’t eat.
Okay, based on how speedily he is storing the food, he also seems a little eager to get through the clean-up and to the next phase of our evening too.
“I’m going to leave all the trash and dishware for later,” he says, taking a step towards me.
“Sounds good.”
“Come here.” He pulls me towards him and drapes his arms over my shoulders, his eyes hungry—but not for food. “You’re still okay with the options I picked?”
I wrap my arms around his waist and shrink some of the space between our bodies. “Very much so.”
