Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I could hardly contain my delight. “Of course it counts! Singin’ in the Rain is a classic. Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, Donald O’Connor—they’re all fantastic in it.” I paused, wondering how far I should take it, how geeky I should get. Dylan’s smile made me keep going, though. “What’s your favorite song from the movie?”
Dylan’s face grew puzzled, as if I should have known the answer. “Well, I mean, ‘Singin’ in the Rain,’ of course. It’s just so… joyful, you know? And the… the what’s it called, you know… the…”
His face lit up suddenly, and it sent another surge of warmth rising in my chest.
“Choreography!” he said. “That’s it. When Gene Kelly does all that with his umbrella… I could watch that a million times.”
I couldn’t resist teasing him gently. “Oh, come on, that’s so basic! ‘Good Morning’ is a much better song.”
Dylan laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t actually mean that,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “You just want to have something to argue about, don’t you?”
I felt my cheeks grow hot, caught off guard by his playful accusation. For a moment, I considered doubling down on my preference for ‘Good Morning,’ but something in Dylan’s knowing smile made me relent.
“Okay, you got me,” I admitted, ducking my head shyly. “I do love ‘Singin’ in the Rain.’ It’s impossible not to smile when you watch that scene.”
As I looked back up at Dylan, I felt a sudden shift inside me. The warmth in his hazel eyes, the gentle teasing in his voice, the way he saw right through my attempt at playful debate—it all came together in a realization that hit me like a thunderbolt. I was falling in love with him.
It wasn’t just his handsome features or his kind demeanor. There was something about the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence that radiated from him. He didn’t need to raise his voice or make grand gestures to command attention. His presence alone was enough.
I thought back to how he had stood up to Devin and Greta, insisting on taking me to the Trattoria. How he had gently but firmly shut down any expectations of what might happen after our date. Dylan knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it, but he also respected my boundaries and comfort.
As we continued chatting, I found myself hanging on his every word, relishing the way he gently guided the conversation. When I started to ramble about another musical, he listened attentively but then smoothly steered us back to the main topic. It was subtle, but I could feel his quiet control over our interaction.
Suddenly, an image flashed through my mind—Dylan’s strong hands on my body, guiding me over his knee. I imagined the firm pressure of his palm against my bottom, administering a loving but stern spanking. The thought sent a jolt of heat straight to my core, making me squirm in my seat.
Confused and overwhelmed by the intensity of my feelings and the unexpected turn of my thoughts, I fell silent. My cheeks burned as I stared down at my plate, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside me. How could I be thinking about Dylan spanking me? Why did the idea excite me so much?
I barely noticed as the waiter came to take our order, letting Dylan choose for both of us. My mind was too preoccupied with these new, confusing desires and the growing realization that I was falling hard for the man sitting across from me.
Without my even being fully conscious of it, half my brain started to work on ways to derail the date. My rising affection for Dylan felt terribly dangerous. Together, his quiet, confident dominance and my apparent Stockholm syndrome for the crazy New Modesty culture seemed like a recipe for disaster.
But as our delicious meal proceeded, the sheer pleasantness of the occasion—my handsome date, the romantic restaurant, the contented other couples, all older, who sat at the nearby tables—kept making me delay the moment when I made sure Dylan wouldn’t want a second date. I found myself asking for more details about the robofarm, and growing even more interested at the way Dylan answered, making the minutiae of automated agriculture seem exciting.
“You should have been a teacher,” I told him, suddenly, before I could stop myself.
Dylan smiled, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Nah,” he said. “I’d miss being outdoors. But I don’t mind teaching people. If they’re as beautiful as you are, anyway, Andrea.”
CHAPTER 16
Andrea
The surge of affection in my chest turned the unease in my head into a flashing red warning light. As the date continued, a nagging voice in the back of my mind kept insisting that I needed to do something to sabotage things with Dylan. The intensity of my growing feelings for him terrified me. Getting too attached would only lead to more pain and humiliation in this strange new world I found myself in.