“You are too much.”

Lara picks at her salad as she watches you pour a glass of wine for her, chestnut eyes trained on the way you carefully tip the bottle over the rim of the glass. Each movement calculated and measured. The subtle push and pull of your wrist.

She’s feeling uncharacteristically frisky tonight. Maybe it’s the way you’ve been treating her all day? She doesn’t really know.

But what she does know is that she wants to jump your bones and drag you into the bedroom, keep you there for the remainder of the night. Like, right now. But, she’ll be patient; bide her time. Enjoy this meal you’ve cooked for her.

Then, fun time.

“You really didn’t have to do all this, yanno? I’d be fine with a store bought pizza.”