It's Not A Date...Is It?

Dakota stared out the window of the Uber, one leg bouncing restlessly. Her stomach had been growling for the last twenty minutes, loud enough that she was surprised the driver hadn’t commented on it. She had completely forgotten to eat lunch.

That fucking book.

It’s not a date, she told herself, watching the city lights blur past. It’s a free dinner.

She shifted in her seat, pressing a hand lightly against her stomach like she could quiet it.

It’s not a date. It’s a free dinner.

The mantra wasn’t working as well as she wanted it to.

When the car finally pulled up in front of the restaurant, Dakota was already reaching for the door handle before it had fully stopped. She muttered a quick thanks to the driver, shoved her phone into her bag, and stepped out into the cool evening air. The place was nicer than she remembered — soft lighting, white tablecloths, the low murmur of conversation drifting out through the open door. She smoothed the front of her dress without thinking and walked in.

The maître d’ looked up from his stand with a polite smile.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

Dakota scanned the dining room quickly, eyes moving over the tables until she spotted a familiar figure near the back. Lauren was already seated, one hand raised in a small wave.

“My date’s already here,” Dakota said automatically.

The second the words left her mouth, she wanted to bite her own tongue.

Goddamn it.

She cleared her throat and pointed toward the back. “There she is.”

The maître d’ gave a small nod and gestured for her to go ahead.

Lauren stood up as Dakota approached the table. She’d clearly made an effort — her long blonde hair was partially braided and pinned up, with a few loose pieces framing her face. She was wearing a soft, light-colored sundress with a low neckline that showed off her chest. It was still very much Lauren, but a slightly dressed-up version.

Dakota had to admit she looked amazing.

Of course she did. She always did.

Before Dakota could even get a proper greeting out, Lauren stepped in and pulled her into a hug. Her arms wrapped fully around Dakota’s back, one hand resting low and possessive. It was too tight. Too familiar. Lauren was warm, and she smelled so damn good. Dakota stiffened, her arms coming up awkwardly, her body rigid, not leaning in.

When Lauren finally pulled back, Dakota started to turn her head for a cheek kiss out of habit. Lauren didn’t give her the chance. She leaned in and kissed her squarely on the lips, pressing firmly and holding it a second longer than a simple peck. It wasn’t an open-mouth kiss, but it was too intimate to be a casual greeting.

Dakota’s brain stalled. She blinked hard, her hands hovering uselessly at her sides for half a second before she managed to lower them. Lauren was treating this like a reunion, not a first date in a long time. Date. There was that word again. This was not a date. This is a free dinner.

Lauren’s eyes flicked over Dakota’s face, and her smile turned fond.

“Oh my,” she said softly. “You look so cute when you blush like that.”

She wasn’t blushing. She was pissed.

When Lauren finally pulled away, she was still smiling like nothing strange had just happened.

“You made it,” she said. “I was starting to think you got lost.”

Dakota blinked, still trying to catch up.

“Yeah,” she managed. “Sorry. Got caught up with something.”

They sat down. Dakota reached for her wine glass a little too quickly and took a sip, trying to steady herself. Lauren’s eyes dropped immediately to Dakota’s dress, and her smile softened into something warmer, more appreciative.

“You’re wearing the dress I bought you,” she said, tilting her head. “I always loved that one on you. It fits your body so well.”

Dakota felt the words land like a stone in her stomach.

She hadn’t even thought about it when she got dressed. She’d just grabbed the first decent thing in her closet. But now that Lauren had said it out loud, the realization hit her with sudden, unpleasant clarity — she had chosen this dress. Out of everything she owned, she’d picked the one Lauren had bought her.

Her face went hot.

Fuck.

Lauren was still looking at her, waiting for a response, completely unaware that Dakota’s brain had just lit up like a five-alarm fire.

Dakota forced a small smile and set her wine glass back down, trying to ignore the way her pulse was suddenly hammering in her throat.

“Yeah,” she said, voice a little tighter than she meant it to be. “I guess I did.”

The first sip had been cold and bright, and she felt it move through her faster than it should have. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She told herself to be careful.

She took another drink anyway.

Lauren watched her with a small, pleased smile, chin resting on her interlaced fingers.

“I already ordered for both of us,” she said. “The mushroom risotto you like. And the arugula salad to start.”

Dakota paused with the glass halfway to her mouth.

Of course she did.

She set the glass down.

“You could’ve asked,” she said, keeping her voice even.

Lauren’s smile didn’t waver. “You said you were running late and on a tight schedule. I figured I’d make things easier for you.”

Dakota didn’t answer right away. She could feel it already — that familiar gravity. It would be so easy to stop pushing back. Let Lauren handle the ordering, the pacing, the decisions. She’d been carrying everything on her own for months. The idea of handing even a little of it over felt like relief she didn’t want to admit she wanted.

She hated how badly she wanted to let her.

Lauren must have seen something shift in her face, because her expression softened.

“If you want, we can cancel it,” she said gently. “You can order something else. What do you want?”

Dakota looked at her for a second, then glanced down at her wine glass.

She was going to order that anyway, she thought. But still…

She shook her head once, short and tight.

“No,” she said. “It’s fine.”

Lauren’s smile warmed. She lifted her own glass.

“To catching up.”

Dakota hesitated, then clinked her glass against Lauren’s anyway.

The second sip went down smoother than the first. She felt a slow warmth spreading through her chest, loosening something in her shoulders she hadn’t realized was tight. Her thoughts felt a fraction slower, a little more forgiving. She told herself to be careful. She was already feeling it more than she wanted to.

She took another sip.

Lauren’s eyes drifted down to the neckline of Dakota’s dress, appreciative.

“You’re wearing the dress I bought you,” she said, tilting her head. “I always loved that one on you. It fits your body so well.”

Dakota felt the words land heavier than they should have. She hadn’t even thought about it when she got dressed. She’d just grabbed the first decent thing in her closet. But now that Lauren had said it out loud, the realization hit her with sudden, unpleasant clarity — she had chosen this dress. Out of everything she owned, she’d picked the one Lauren had bought her.

Her face felt warm. She wasn’t sure if it was the wine or something else.

She reached for her glass again without thinking, then stopped herself halfway there. She set her hand back in her lap instead.

Lauren was still looking at her, smiling like she already knew how the night was going to go.

Dakota looked down at her wine glass and didn’t pick it up.

Not yet.

Dakota was halfway through her second glass of wine when she noticed Lauren’s hand resting on top of hers.

She blinked at it, slow and slightly delayed. Lauren’s fingers were warm and relaxed, draped loosely over the back of her hand like it belonged there. Dakota had no idea how long it had been there. She hadn’t felt it. Or maybe she had, and had simply chosen not to do anything about it.

She pulled her hand back and tucked it into her lap. Lauren didn’t react. She just kept talking, smooth and effortless, as if nothing had happened.

A few minutes later, their food arrived. The waiter set their plates down and lingered beside the table.

“Would you like another glass?” he asked. “Or would you like me to bring the bottle?”

Lauren turned to Dakota, one elbow resting on the table, chin lightly balanced on her hand. Her expression was warm, almost indulgent.

“What do you think, darling?”

The word landed heavier than it should have. Dakota reached for her glass and took another sip, using the motion to buy herself a second. The wine had already softened the sharp edges of the evening.

She shrugged, loose and a little careless.

“Well,” she said, “if you’re buying, I’ll take the bottle.”

Lauren’s smile widened, slow and pleased. She turned back to the waiter without missing a beat.

“The lady will have the bottle. Thank you.”

The waiter nodded and disappeared. Lauren held Dakota in her gaze, drinking her in. Dakota looked down at her plate instead.

They ate for a while in relative quiet. Lauren asked about work, about the coffee shop, about the long hours and difficult customers. Dakota answered more than she meant to. The wine made it easier. So did the way Lauren listened — head tilted, eyes steady, like every answer actually mattered.

At one point Lauren leaned forward slightly, chin resting on her hand.

“Are you still going to classes?” she asked. “Or has the coffee shop taken over completely?”

Dakota hesitated, pushing her fork through the risotto on her plate.

“I’m still going,” she admitted. “I’m still trying. It’s just… hard to keep showing up to auditions when you’re exhausted from a double shift.”

Lauren nodded, listening without interrupting.

Dakota took another sip of wine before adding, “I did actually get one job though. I’m recording an audiobook right now. Dark romance. It’s… not great.”

Lauren’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but she smiled.

“Oh god,” she said, laughing softly. “Those books are so trashy. The writing is always so over-the-top and completely unbelievable. I can never get through more than a few chapters before I start rolling my eyes.”

Dakota let out a small, surprised laugh.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s… pretty accurate.”

Lauren shook her head, still smiling.

“I don’t know how you’re sitting through recording it without losing your mind. I would’ve thrown the script across the room by now.” She paused, then added, “I hope they’re paying you well, at least. If you’re going to be forced to read that nonsense, they should be compensating you for the damage to your soul.” Her smile softened a little. “But I know you’ve got the acting chops to pull it off. You could probably make even that drivel sound believable.”

Dakota shrugged, a small, wry smile tugging at her mouth.

“Well,” she said, “it’s going to let me keep paying for acting classes for a while longer. So there’s that.”

Lauren’s expression warmed.

“Good,” she said. “You deserve to be doing the work you actually care about.”

A little later, Lauren reached across the table and stole a spear of asparagus from Dakota’s plate with her fork. She didn’t ask. She just took it, popped it into her mouth, and hummed appreciatively.

“This is better than mine,” she said. “Try this.”

Before Dakota could respond, Lauren had already cut another small piece of her salmon and was holding the fork out across the table, hovering just in front of Dakota’s mouth.

Dakota looked at it. Then at Lauren.

She demurred, leaning back slightly in her chair.

Lauren didn’t lower the fork. She just tilted her head, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“We’ve kissed,” she said, voice low and amused. “A lot. It’s just a bite.”

Dakota felt heat crawl up the back of her neck. She could feel Lauren watching her, patient and unbothered, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

After a beat, Dakota leaned forward.

Lauren guided the fork to her mouth, eyes dropping to watch Dakota’s lips part around it. She fed her the bite slowly, then drew the fork back. The tines dragged lightly across Dakota’s bottom lip as they slipped free.

Dakota chewed, trying not to think about how closely Lauren had watched her mouth. She swallowed and reached for her wine glass.

Lauren didn’t set the fork down.

Instead, she brought it to her own lips and slid the tines into her mouth, sucking them clean in one slow, unhurried motion. Her eyes stayed on Dakota the entire time. It was deliberate. Intimate. A second-hand kiss, quiet and obscene in the middle of a restaurant.

When she finally lowered the fork, Lauren licked her bottom lip once and smiled, small and satisfied.

“There,” she said softly. “Good, right?”

Dakota nodded once, jaw tight. She took a larger sip of wine than she meant to, trying to steady herself. Her lips still tingled. She could still feel the pressure of the fork against her tongue, and now she had the image of Lauren sucking it clean burned into her head.

It would have been so much easier if the food hadn’t been so fucking good.

She wanted to hate it. She wanted to be able to dismiss the whole thing — the wine, the fork, the way Lauren had looked at her mouth. But it was delicious. And Lauren had known exactly what she was doing. She had known exactly what to order, exactly how to offer it, and exactly how to make refusing feel like more work than just leaning forward.

Dakota stared down at her plate, fork still in her hand, and tried not to think about the way Lauren had watched her lips close around the metal.

She failed.

Lauren reached over and stole another spear of asparagus from Dakota’s plate, popping it into her mouth without asking.

“Now both our pee is going to smell funny tomorrow,” she said casually, like she was commenting on the weather.

Dakota stared at her.

For a second she couldn’t even form a response. Her face felt hot. Her pulse was hammering in her throat. Lauren just smiled across the table like they were having a perfectly normal conversation.

Her first date in nearly a year, and it was with her ex. How pathetic.

Dakota was still trying to steady herself when Lauren leaned back in her chair and smiled across the table.

“I’ve been making some new pieces,” Lauren said, almost offhand. “I’ve got pictures on my phone. Let me show you.”

Before Dakota could answer, Lauren stood up, picked up her chair, and carried it around the table. She set it down right beside Dakota’s, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.

Lauren sat, angled slightly toward her, and pulled out her phone. She held it up between them with one hand while her other hand dropped casually under the table and came to rest on Dakota’s knee.

Dakota went very still.

She should stop her. She should push her hand away.

But she didn’t.

Her heart beat a little faster.

Lauren didn’t look at her. She just started scrolling through photos on her screen, talking in that same easy, familiar tone she’d used all night.

“So this one I made last month,” she said, tilting the phone so Dakota could see a delicate silver cuff with a small, irregular stone set into it. “I was playing with asymmetry. I think it works better on the wrist than I expected.” She glanced at Dakota’s wrist for a second. “That would actually look really good on you.”

Her thumb moved slowly across Dakota’s knee, then higher, tracing a light path up the inside of her thigh. Dakota swallowed. Her dress had ridden up a little when she sat, and Lauren’s fingers were warm against her skin. Her breathing had deepened without her noticing.

She should smack her hand.

Why wasn’t she stopping her?

Lauren kept talking.

“This one’s my favorite so far,” she said, swiping to another photo. A thin gold chain with a small pendant. “I’ve been experimenting with longer chains. I like how they sit right here—”

She set the phone down on the table for a moment and reached over. Her fingers brushed lightly against the base of Dakota’s throat, just above her collarbone. Her voice had gone slightly breathy, her words brushing warm against Dakota’s ear.

“—instead of sitting flat,” Lauren continued, her lips nearly grazing her earlobe. “More movement.”

She picked the phone back up and kept scrolling.

Dakota looked at the photo. The chain was simple but striking, the pendant catching the light in a way that made it feel alive. They were beautiful. She hated that she could see it so clearly. Lauren had always been talented with her hands.

Under the table, Lauren’s talented hand kept moving. Slow. Deliberate. Fingertips brushing higher, slipping just under the hem of Dakota’s dress. Dakota’s breath caught. She tried to focus on the phone, on the jewelry, on anything except the way Lauren’s nails were now lightly grazing the inside of her thigh.

Why couldn’t she stop her?

Lauren’s voice stayed perfectly steady.

“I’ve got a couple more I haven’t even posted yet,” she murmured, swiping again. “This one’s still in progress. I’m not sure about the clasp…”

Maybe she didn’t actually want to.

Lauren’s fingers brushed the front of Dakota’s panties.

Dakota made a soft, startled chirp and then bit her lip to keep from making any more sounds. Her whole body went tight. Her hand twitched on the table. She could feel how aroused she was, how obvious it must be, and she hated that she couldn’t make herself move. Couldn’t make herself say anything. Lauren just kept talking about clasps and chains like they were having a perfectly normal conversation.

Then her phone, lying face down on the table, buzzed.

The sound cut through everything.

She reached for it quickly, heart hammering, and turned it over. The screen lit up with a notification.

“Shit,” she breathed. She pushed her chair back so fast it scraped loudly against the floor. “I have to go. I’m going to be late.”

Lauren lowered her phone, eyebrows lifting slightly, but her expression stayed calm.

“I’ll drive you,” she said. “Just let me grab the check real quick and we can—”

“No.” Dakota shook her head, already reaching for her bag. Her voice came out tighter than she meant it to. “It’s fine. It’s not far. I’ll walk.”

Lauren studied her for a second, then nodded once, like she wasn’t going to push.

“All right,” she said softly. “If you’re sure.”

Dakota didn’t look at her again. She just turned and walked out of the restaurant, legs unsteady, the ghost of Lauren’s fingers still burning against her skin.