What's better than sex? To Naomi, it's going out with friends for delicious food, winning softball games, and having a whirlwind romance with her close friend. The only problem: despite a decade of friendship, she has yet to come out to him as asexu...
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Kieran chose a quirky yet fancy restaurant for their first date. It was run out of a decommissioned railway station and a train car. They served what they called traditional French dishes like ratatouille, confit de canard, and foie gras, but he also saw the poutine and tourtière as Quebecois. A Montreal-based jazz group was playing, which made him more at home as his dad would sometimes bring him to the city to catch shows or performances in the rare moments he had visitation rights after the divorce
"I've lived here my entire life, and I've never tried this place," Naomi said as they pulled up and parked in the busy lot overlooking the red, silver and black train car. Jazz music sashayed to their ears as they opened the truck doors. He met her behind the vehicle, taking her warm hand in his.
"It has outstanding reviews and is close to the movie."
"And It has poutine, so I'm excited."
Kieran held back a laugh. A whole menu of nicer French dinners, and she opted for the pub food. But he loved that about her too. The light breeze made her chestnut wavy hair sway in the wind along with her red dress. It flowed just past her knees, and she wore a camisole under the low-cut front. She still took his breath away even after the twenty-minute drive here to sneak glances at her.
With that smile, he couldn't help but sigh. "Come closer."
She obliged, easing into his embrace until they were a breath's whisper away.
"I've missed you all week," he whispered.
"I missed you too."
Their chests rose and fell in sync, and the surrounding noise faded to a faint buzz.
Remember, you left her in charge. Let her make the move if she's ready.
Naomi's stomach rumbled, and they both laughed, although she blushed. He couldn't look away from her adorable face, which grew more freckled and tanned each time they met.
"That's our cue." He shifted his hands from her back to her hand and his side. "Let's show this place who's the poutine boss."
They walked up the stairs near the train, where the host greeted them and led them through the station part of the restaurant with dark wood door panels, plush red booth and scarlet drapery. They emerged on the patio, closed in by greenery, the brick wall and the passenger car. With the jazz music and hum of conversation, it was impossible to tell there was a street behind the stage. Kieran and Naomi sat at the only empty metal tables in the corner.
Her eyes darted around the busy patio. "This place is cool. Thanks for setting this all up."
"Anytime. Glad to have your company."
The host poured two glasses of ice water and passed them the menus.
"Wine?" Kieran asked as he flipped to the drink section.
