Vinyl and Velvet Nights
Author's note: If you haven't already, I highly recommend you read 'A Slice of Chocolate Pecan' before you read this one. This piece picks up where it left off. You could also treat this as a standalone piece if you just want to dive right into the steaminess, but I think the context will make this story all the more enjoyable as well as introduce the characters a bit more.
After much deliberation, I've decided to write this piece from Lizzie's perspective rather than Matt's. I wanted to try something a little different. Also recommend listening to 'The Moment' by Kenny G when you get to that part if you like smooth jazz. I hope y'all enjoy!
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Ch. 1
I chewed on the pie thoughtfully, letting the rich chocolate melt across my tongue. Sitting back in the booth, my eyes drifted to Matt, who was savoring his own slice with such unguarded bliss that it was almost mesmerizing. I couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. The way he enjoyed every bite, completely lost in the moment, made my heart skip unexpectedly.
Matt was certainly different from any of the guys I had dated in college--not that there had been that many. Oh, there had been suitors, plenty of them. But I had always been picky. Extremely picky, though perhaps not in the ways I should've been.
Up until now, I'd only seriously dated three guys. Well, four if you counted that one one-night fling with a biker in a dive bar during a very regrettable, very drunk night. I certainly wasn't. Definitely not.
The guys I had chosen were all cut from the same cloth--bad boys. Masculine, daring, devilishly good-looking. The type who smirked like they had the world in the palm of their hand and probably thought they did. They were exciting, sure, but that excitement never lasted. Two of those relationships had burned out in spectacular disasters, leaving me with more lessons than memories. The last one, though, had ended on a softer note. I'd like to think that we'd both grown wiser, matured in our own ways, finally admitting that what we had wasn't what either of us was truly looking for. It wasn't bitter, just inevitable, like closing a chapter that had run its course.
Matt was different. Not that he wasn't attractive. Far from it. In fact, he had this rugged yet goofy charm about him that I found particularly endearing. A little scruffy, a little awkward, very funny and with a hidden sweetness-- a sensitive side. When I had seen him blush at getting caught reading erotica, I already had my eye on him.
He was the kind of guy I would've overlooked back in college. Not that I wouldn't have found him appealing, but simply because we would never have crossed paths. My circle of male acquaintances was made up of either hipster musicians and edgy poets-- who I considered to be my friends rather than romantic interests, or the charming devil-may-care guys I met at underground raves or college parties.
"Ready to go?" Matt asked.
His voice brought me back to the present. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't even realized that I had finished my slice, and that he had paid the bill. I smiled and nodded.
Ch 2.
Waving our goodbyes to Louise, we walked out into the night. I climbed into the passenger side of his truck, shivering a bit from the cold. He started the truck and turned the heater on full blast. The glove compartment popped open by itself, landing on my lap.
"Sorry. It does that from time to time." he said, reaching over to close it. Something caught my eye.
"Is that a CD?" I asked, snatching it up before he could close the compartment. I examined it closely, "Nickelback? Dayumm how old are you?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Just a little nostalgia."
I laughed. "What are you going to show me next? Your record player?"
His grin widened.
"No... you're joking." I said staring at him.
"You'll see." he smirked before turning his attention back to the road.
A few minutes later, we pulled into the driveway of his one story house in the suburbs. I got out and followed him to the door. His house was a nice brick home with a small porch, the kind that looked cozy rather than showy. A porch swing swayed slightly in the breeze, and a dim porch light cast a soft glow over the welcome mat.
He unlocked the door and we stepped inside. As he turned on the lights, I immediately took in the warm, lived in feel of the place. There was a leather couch, a few framed pictures on the walls, and books stacked haphazardly on a coffee table.
"This is nice." I said, taking it all in.
"Yeah?"
"Beats living in shack under a bridge, I guess." I said, nudging him in the ribs.
