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I flush. “Oh, I mean, I’m not really dressed for something fancy.”
He lets out a throaty laugh. “I’m not taking you to a five-star restaurant; this place is laid back. But the food there is delicious. Trust me. You’re dressed just fine. Besides, as you can see, I’m in a T-shirt and jeans.”
His hand wraps around mine, and we start walking away from the dorm.
We make our way into the parking lot, hand in hand walking toward an old but nice-looking black car. My eyes widen at how pristine it looks.
“Wow, is this yours?” I look up at Damien as he leads me to the passenger side. The exterior is a beautiful midnight black with two white racing stripes down the center.
He shakes his head, “No, it’s my mom’s car. She lets me borrow it for dates.”
I stop in my tracks and stare at him.
“I’m kidding, Rory.” He busts out laughing.
My face cracks into a smile, and I shake my head. “You had me there for a minute,” I retort wryly.
“I could tell. It’s why I couldn’t hold my face any longer. No, this baby is truly mine.” He opens the door, and I slide inside as he shuts it behind me.
And holy shit, the interior of this car is just as pristine as the exterior. White with a black dash. Now, I’m no car expert, but everything on the inside looks like it’s original.
The driver’s side door opens, and Damien drops in the seat and starts up the car. And holy fuck me. This car fuckingroars.
I think I’m in love.
“What the hell kinda car is this?” I turn toward him, my eyes wide as I listen to the engine bringing life to this beast of a car. “Remember, I can probably change the oil on this thing, but everything else escapes me.” I laugh.
“Yeah, I remember. You like her?” he asks me, and I nod. “This here is my baby. It’s a 1970 Chevy Chevelle SS with a 396 motor.”
“I have no idea what that means, but I’m guessing that’s a good thing.”
He laughs, “Yes, it is. I rebuilt this baby. I upgraded it with an aluminum intake, dual feed Holly carb, and an HEI ignition. Otherwise, a lot of the rest of this is still detailed to factory condition.”
“Again, you are like an alien from another planet with your words. No clue what any of that actually means. But I’m guessing it’s all good.”
He nods as his lips turn up. “Yes. Car good. Go fast,” he grunts.
“This is why I’m going into architecture and not following my father in the mechanic world. I can remember codes and guidelines, but anything about a car and it’s through one ear and out the other.”
“Well, then I’m happy you’re not fixing anything on this and sticking with buildings. Though, I may be a little worried about that now, too. Might have to quiz you to make sure you do know your stuff.” He lets out another throaty laugh.
I playfully slap his arm, and he grabs my hand before I can pull it back. Slowly, he brings it up to his lips and kisses the back of my hand, turning it, and slowly kissing the inside of my wrist.
And I think I just came.
He drops my hand on his leg, his eyes slowly leaving mine. Shifting out of park, he starts to maneuver his car out of the parking spot as we head toward the restaurant.
We only drive a few minutes before he pulls up to a small brick building with a lighted sign above the door illuminating the name of the restaurant: Petronzio. Along the top of the brick walls are string lights that give off a soft glow.
My eyes widen, my mouth curving into a grin. “Wow, this is cute.”
Damien turns off the car. “Yeah, it is. I love this place. Stay there.” He jumps out of the car and runs to my side, opening my door and holding out his hand.
“Oh, thank you,” I say sheepishly as I place my hand in his. When I step out of the car, he shuts the door behind me and walks with his arm around my shoulder.
As we walk into the restaurant, my eyes immediately gravitate toward the bar to the left. A red light lines the back of the bar which is wrapped in black wooden planks, a dark wood countertop, and black barstools surrounding it.
Across from it are booths that are covered in an olive-green leather. Not a choice I would have gone with, but more power to them.