Laura P. O. V:

Roasted chicken with steamed veggies.

Medium rare steak with sauted carrots and potatoes.

Pan seared salmon, blazed with bourbon and lemon pepper.

Broiled Crab cake, with butter glazed french fries and remoulade sauce.

"You are such a picky eater.", He said, after sending the waitress for the third time.

"I just want this to be a perfect dinner", I scrutinized through the menu, all items with loads of butter glazed chicken, high calorie cheeseburger, salty ranch sauce. It's not that I'm so conscious on my diet. It's because I have to maintain this petite figure for dancing, easy for lifting me.

"How about Caeser salad?", I knew I would provoke aggressive anger from him. As expected, he blew out steam from top of his head.

"Why? Are you on diet?", He asked.

"I want to stay slim for the upcoming dance.", I said, gently.

"Alright! Go ahead, order some stupid salad. But this is the only night here.", He tempted me, as I examined the menu.

I want the pan seared salmon, so badly. The fierce battle between my mind, not wanting to gain weight and my heart, telling that it's my fucking life.

The waitress came up.

"Pan seared salmon with extra butter and mayo.", I ordered with all my heart, as Christian looked at me with delight.

"Whole Seafood platter.", He ordered.

I looked again into the menu.

Not without an starter.

"Crab cake and a classic french fries, tomato sauce. And I'm allergic to sweet potato.", I added.

"And also a virgin mojito.", The last of my order, I promised myself.

Christian looked at me, awed and taunted by my huge appetite, even after eating little delicacies.

"You have a great appetite.", He astonished at how loads can fit into my stomach.

"Never judge a book by its cover.", I teased him, as I looked again at the menu.

***

My stomach was about to burst, but I managed to muster gap for a little dessert. Christian was equally competitive at eating, as we both tasted unusually different dishes. I kept him company as I pushed in the last piece of chocolate brownie cake into our mouth.

The rich, exotic cocoa beans hand roasted and made into chocolate was glazed on the scrumptious bronze sponge cake, as it melted in our mouth. The delish vanilla ice cream melted on the sizzling brownie along with succulent farm grown strawberries on the side.

Perfect end to the perfect dinner.

I burped, as I looked at Christian who was seriously moaning at the lava cake. He ate slowly, that his cake seduced me to take a bite. I took my spoon and went near his plate, my eyes begging for one little crumb. He looked at me, his eyebrows raised in ridicule.

"What happened to no sharing?",he incited the deal I made before we start to eat.

I insisted on this rule at the start, as I was so aware and hungry. And Christian agreed readily.

Number one pet peeves is I don't share food, mostly anything, maybe salad, because it's no fun to eat.

One bite, alright.

Half a pizza, slit your throat at sleep.

Go buy your own fucking dinner.

Other than that, dinner is fun.

"Just one bite.", I asked him with a childish voice.

He looked at my plate, clearly wiped off from any residues that it could be used fresh.

Hey! Blame the chocolate.

He looked at my face, gave me a whimsical look. His face suddenly delighted with a kittenish joy. He ruffled through his pockets and took his phone.

"One picture.", He said.

What the big deal?

His phone flashed at me, as I gave him an iconic pout face, with my fork, resting on the side of my forehead.

He showed me, now I regret this.

My face was so smudged with chocolate, my cheeks, the tip of my nose, even my forehead, how did it get there? The sticky chocolate drizzled down from the side of my arm, looking like a retard new to eating.

"Delete it.", I grabbed his phone.

"You don't want this lava cake?", I saw it, the hot auburn chocolate dripping slowly like an avalanche, stealing my heart along with it.

"Fine.", I gulped down the cake, after his two tiny bites.

In between my orgasm with this exotic cake, I muffled,

"Christian Dominique, you are a really bad influence on me."

Soon, the bill arrived. We looked at each other, knowing that there would be a battle on who pays. Christian swapped the bill, right away as I tried to snatch it from him. I was the one who ate loads, so I should pay the bill, beside he seems to spend a lot on me.

"Give it to me.", I snarled at him, as he winked at me, taking long green bills and sneaking them.

"No.", He said.

"I ate a lot. I should pay.".

"Bad excuse. But a gentleman should pay on his date.",

Date?

"Date?", I bewildered at the strong word. He looked equally shocked at me, his face showed stiff awkwardness for a split second. I snatched the bill book from him.

206 dollars?

After shopping, I had two hundred dollar bill. I managed to be tight lipped and saved them for this moment. I placed the crisp note into the book.

"It's not a date- date. I mean...", He stammered, his fingers tapped awkwardly against the table.

"But you said it.", I teased him, as he blushed a little.

"It is a date -ish meet."

"Okay.", I laughed at his idea of a date-ish meet.

No strict romance nor too casual. It's just me being my own and him being him, and somehow fit each other.

"Since it's a date-ish meet, let me pay this time.", I gave it to the waitress, triumphant like a boss.

***

The gritty sand collapsed under my foot, the enticing waves hit our feet as we walked at the line of seashore. Cold waves sent a bewitched spell up our spine, intoxicating our brain with its amorous touch.

I looked behind, the beach had only two lonely pair of our footprints, beautifully carved in the moonlight. The shells shone like rainbow treasures, the cold water glistening clear with lacy shadows, our skin starry with sand, the saline taste in our mouth, it was like a fairytale.

He took a full breath of cold air into his lungs, taking in all the fairy dust.

"It feels free", he relaxed with an mystical optimism in his talk.

"You like beaches?", I asked, as he looked at me, carefree mirth filled his face.

"Yah, it's like how you love the stars.", He said.

"I grew in a very reserved family. My dad was so strict and it was like living in a golden cage. But my mom and I would sneak out to the beach. We used to pick up seashells and snails. If I'm lucky, we would build sand castle and eat popsicles. As I grew up, like all other parents, they got busy with the flourishing business.", He said, melancholic nostalgia trampled on his mind.

"Yah! That's the worst of growing up. They would be like, now you know to handle your shit, so goodbye.", He chuckled a bit at my comment.

Millions of quizzical doubts dumped in my mind, as I looked at a completely different Christian.

Is this Christian?

The one who played with every innocent heart, who threatened me, kidnapped me, again threatened me and made a sly deal?

From being narcissistic womanizer with a tough frontier, now I see him, so vulnerable and genuine, someone who cherish sentiments and has a soft spot for little things done out of pure love.

The silent beach is his addicting drug, his intoxicating alcohol and his only light of his world.

"I got an idea.", He said as he put an end to my lingering reverence. Unknowingly, I took his and ran along, my heart leaning on him, for the first time.

***
Above 250 feet from the sea, we sat on the tower of the lighthouse almost touching the astral stars as the adrift legs floated down in the cold breeze. The lantern house was blazing with canary light, which beamed into the infinity. The roaring waves crashed against each other on the rock bottom, covered in lush green algae.

We could see the thin line which separated the roaring sea from the calm sky, the boundary between reality and fantasy. The faraway twinkles of our busy city, the 3 am people are burning the midnight oil for their dreams, the happy souls snuggling into one another, the children fighting dragons of the Lost Sea, we sat here like God, looking at the marvels of nature.

"Look what I have got?", He said gleefully, taking out the Burgundy wine and uncorked it. The foam sizzled out of its mouth, the boozy smell mixed with the chill wind.

"Chris, you have a great eye for details.", I said to him, surprised by his unique choice of places.

"I chose this place, because we both could see our favorite things.", He looked at the vast purple horizon, studded with stellar bodies.

"Then do something.", I said randomly, a slight drunkenness hit me.

"Let's play a game.", He was delighted.

"Game?"

"The game of three confessions. This night, we would talk our most three things we wanted to tell each other."

"Alright."

"You first.", I took the first move.

I started with the first issue which came to my mind. Breaking hearts isn't funny. But to say it right in his face, that would be a little offensive.

"You know, um... I'm not in the place to say this.. but... You shouldn't be a play-", I stammered.

"I knew this would your first thing.", He clapped his hands, guessing the answer.

"So, I would like to clear that for you. I did break up with her. And I'm sorry for that.", He started with his reasons.

Sorry? That's not enough.

"Your friend, Samantha was a great girl, funny, charming. But she always wanted the... the fierce love and the big dates and lots of roses. I wanted to have a good old date but she despised it."

Yah, he was right! Samantha always wanted a fairytale. She thought Christian as her Prince charming who rescued her from dull life.

"She always wanted a fantasy
.", I said, as I slowly gulped down the wine, its scintillating acidity touched my palate.

"But you know, fantasy doesn't exist.", He said.

"That girl! She never told me this."

"Well, you never know the story of villian in every movies.", He shrugged his shoulders.

"To every villain", I raised a toast.

"To every villain.", He joined me.

"My turn.", He got excited. He looked fanatical like he longed to ask this question for a long time.

"When you first met me, you said, people like me are a recipe to disasters."

"Yup", he recited the same exact dialogue I first said to him.

"So you hate people like me?"

"You were a player, according to what Samantha said." I took my safe haven.

"Why is this relevant?", I questioned in confusion.

"You hate players, which means You have loved someone?", He hit my nerves.

"Well...", I stammered.

"And he won in whatever games he played.", He guessed right.

"How did you...?"

"I wanted to ask you this for a very long time!", His zealous eyes waited for my reply.

"Justin.", I whispered slowly, kindling all the sickening memories of my dating life.

"Justin Freaking Fletcher. We dated for a month, before he dumped me and dated Alexa the next day. And the most disgusting part is he cheated me for the whole month. I was just a toy when he is bored.",

"What an asshole! Trust me, he's not worth you.", He said, as he sipped the wine, his face puckered due to the wine.

I snatched the bottle from his hand.

"To all fucking asshole who rot in hell.", I gulped down, his head feeling woozy, my concrete wall around my heart broke as it enjoyed the freedom of speech.

"Alright. You had enough.", He grabbed the almost empty bottle from me.

"What? No.", I tried to grab it, but he gave me a deadly serious look.

"My turn. You hated lying. Is it because someone lied to you?", I blabbled a little.

I guess I should draw a line here! I'm too tipsy to be responsible.

"Not to me. To my mom."

"That beautiful lady. Lily. I love her.", My mouth talked gibberish.

"Yes. My dad would lie constantly to my mom. About everything. About how he miss our Thanksgiving and slept with his mistress, how he missed New Year as she was with him.".

"Everytime, when we are at loss in a business, my mom is the one who encourage him, support him and she even give money from my grandma. She loves him with all her heart, they both knew it. Still my dad hurt her and I hate lying."

"No offense, but your dad is a fucking dickhead.", My mouth slipped a lot of irresponsible words.

"Lily reminds me of my mom.", Fond memories of my mom, the way we baked messy cookies, the soft caress of her hands on my hair as I lie on her lap, the funny stories we shared under the canopy of midnight sky, all flashed before me.

"Your mom?", Following the nostalgia, came the nightmare. I still remember her, sleeping cold and peacefully inside the black coffin, her rosy cheeks now pale as I prayed to wake up from this dream. At funeral, I was all alone.

"She passed away when I was little.", Out of nowhere, severe anguish of desolation and misery tortured my pounding heart.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't...", he looked deep into my eyes, as tears flowed down. I leaned on his shoulders, as he took me into his embrace and patted softly on my back. I just can't believe that I'm crying now, even though it happened many years ago. Maybe it's the intoxication or have I truly opened my scar to heal? I wasn't sure. But I'm sure that he could help.

"Sometimes, we don't always get what we crave for, but that's for the best.", He whispered softly.

"Tango was her passion. But she gave up while raising me. Now she is gone, leaving me alone.", I whimpered, as I wiped my tears off, waking up from his shoulders.

Enough with the drama! I don't want to ruin this evening.

"Don't worry. She is always with you.", He said the same lines I heard repeatedly whenever someone sympathized on me.

"Yah. In my heart. That's what everyone else said.", I joked a bit to cool the tension.

"No. I mean. You are like her.", He said.

"You have got her smile. And that eyes.", He told me. "You can see her daily in your smile. Trust me, she is always with you."

"God! You are so sweet."

"Says the one who said I'm a fan of boobs and booty."

"Was. Past tense.", I said with a stingy time.

He laughed at me, as we both stopped seeing eye to eye, feeling sincere respect to each other. We both had hard times where we could never breathe, but we managed to stay above waters. Putting all the pieces together, I now felt remorse for one thing.

Out of the blue, I said,

"Damn you! Christian! I should have said I liked you the moment I saw you in high school."

"What?", He shouted with utter bewilderment.

Oops!

***