25. Chapter 25

C rew smiles down at me as he places his hand on the small of my back. The warmth from his large hand grazes my exposed skin, and I melt into his touch. Since we clearly entered the back door, I follow the worn carpet down the hallway.

What is it with this man and finding hidden gems?

An older woman sees us from where she's standing at the front. We watch as she gathers menus in her hand before waddling toward us.

In the small, quaint space, tables sit close to each other. Each one is covered in a red and white tablecloth, giving the restaurant a family-style theme. In the center of each table is an LED candle and a small bouquet.

"Welcome, welcome," her thick Italian accent greets us. "Two?"

"Please," I say with a warm smile as I reach for Crew's hand. I can't get enough of his touch now that we aren't on a busy college campus. My body craves his constant connection.

The woman leads us to a booth in a corner. She places the plastic-covered menus and napkin-wrapped silverware on the table. Soft Italian music plays from above as chatter from other patrons creates the ambient soundtrack for the night. Taking our seats across from each other, I glance around at the dimly lit room cascaded by the warm glow of lamps and candles.

"I'm Nina. First-timers? "

We nod.

"Welcome to my restaurant. My papa started Osteria Bella when I was six in 1954. All of the items on our menu are authentic family recipes. If you have any questions, please ask away, but in the meantime, what can I get you to drink?"

"I'll have a Coke, please."

Crew asks for the same as Nina moves away from our table before visiting with another.

"This place is so cute."

"So is the view." Crew's husky voice has my attention turning across the table, where he winks at me.

"Charming, Crew."

"Why, thank you, Rebel."

Opening the menu, I take in the multitude of items listed. I'm grateful when I see that the descriptions are in English since the names are in Italian, which wasn't one of the languages I studied in school. A comfortable silence falls over our table while we both browse the extensive menu. Reaching my leg out, I feel Crew's leg and run my sneaker-covered foot up and down his leg in slow, soothing movements.

I still can't believe I blurted out that I loved him. At first, I was going to brush it off with a generic, ‘I love you for buying me coffee,' but the way my cheeks heated, I knew he knew it was more profound than that.

A few minutes later, Nina returned to drop off our drinks, basket of breadsticks, and house salads. Both Crew and I laughed as we ordered the same dish—lasagna bolognese.

"Are you excited for next week's game?"

Next week is Veterans Day, and to honor our servicemen and women, there's a rumor that CTU is releasing new jerseys and that there will be a ceremony at halftime. No one has seen the new uniforms yet. I'm sure the athletic department is waiting until next week so the media can run wild with coverage leading up to the big game.

"Yeah, it should be a good time." His voice is low, and as he glances to the side, I can tell the topic is making him uncomfortable. I didn't even think about what this would mean for him. Not only was his dad a veteran, but his brother is also currently serving. I'm sure the stress of the day weighs heavy on him.

Crew sits with his elbows on the table, his head resting on his folded hands. He almost looks comically large in this booth. I can't help but take in his sharp jawline, which he keeps trimmed into a very close-cut beard that nearly resembles stubble. The scratch of the hair always feels delicious against the sensitive skin near my center. Just the thought has me clenching my thighs as heat pools in my belly.

"Thank you for taking me to dinner." I blurt the words as his head whips in my direction.

"Anytime, Rebel. I know it's hard to find time to steal away, and it's going to be even harder the closer we get to December between the games and assignments I have coming up."

I sip Coke from my straw before placing the plastic cup down. "Seriously, don't sweat it. We'll make it work. It's not like we don't live together or anything."

"That's true."

Nina returned with hot plates of pasta, and we thanked her. We both unwrap the paper ring on the napkin and pull out our forks. I cut into the oversized square-shaped layered pasta. Melty cheese hangs from where I pull the forkful from the rest of the dish. Steam pours from my fork as I bring it toward my mouth and continuously blow, hoping to cool the pasta down. Crew, on the other hand….

"Oh my gosh," he mumbles, trying to cool his mouth. "It's so hot."

Soft giggles escape. "She said it just came from the oven."

Risking a bite, I place a mouthful of the pasta, meat, and tomato sauce mixture onto my tongue and moan as the flavors hit my tastebuds. I watch as Crew reaches for his Coke. With a swallow, I see moisture gathering in the corner of his eyes. He places his fork on his plate while reaching for another breadstick. I shake my head as I watch the trainwreck before me.

"Will you be able to go home for Thanksgiving?"

He shakes his head no as he rips off a piece of bread. "It's a lot to travel back and forth when we have the big game the Saturday after."

The big game is what college football has dubbed the rivalry between CTU and Lafayette. Both teams and their fans absolutely hate each other. I'm excited to attend my first rivalry game. I've always watched it on TV from Arizona. Now, this year, I'll get to feel the atmosphere of hatred as the desire to win swirls in the air.

"Would you, um, like to come home with me for Thanksgiving?" I hesitantly ask.

"I go every year." He smirks, his fork hanging from his hands.

My mouth flies open. "Shut up!"

He chuckles. "Yeah, Rebel, your mom makes mean pies."

"Oh my god, her pecan pie."

"Forget the nuts, give me the pumpkin." Crew scoops another forkful. "The guys and I all ride up together."

"That's so cool."

"Yeah, we're really fortunate your mom does this."

Every year for Thanksgiving, my parents open the house to anyone on the football team who would like to come and have a home-cooked meal. She and my dad, with the help of some family, cook the entire meal. She said it wouldn't be a home-cooked meal if she ordered catering .

"Controversial topic…" I trail off, letting the suspense build. "What's your favorite Thanksgiving food?"

"Easy. Green bean casserole."

"No way!"

"Is that your favorite too?"

I shake my head. "Second favorite. Sweet potatoes are my favorite, but only the ones roasted in a skillet with butter with spoonfuls of brown sugar melted on top."

"God, those sound delicious."

"They do." I lean back from the table and play with the napkin resting in my lap. "Although the thought of food right now." I shiver.

"That was the best lasagna I've ever had." His eyes snap to mine, panic evident. "Don't tell my mom that."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Reaching across the table, I place my hand on top of his. He flips his hand over and laces our fingers together.

Nina dropped off the check after asking about our meal, which we gushed over. Twisting, I reach for my purse. "Bret Addison Campbell, don't you dare reach for your wallet."

A thrill runs through me at his harsh voice. Something about it elicits fire straight to my core.

"You know I can contribute to our dates, too."

"I know you're capable, but my mother would rip me a new one if she knew I didn't treat my woman."

Grabbing the check, Crew stands from the bench, his height towering over the table. He reaches for my hand, which I gladly take, as he pulls me from my seat. His hand never leaves mine. Not as he paid. Not as he leads me out the doors. And not when he walked us down the street to a gelato shop Nina told us about .

Spending time with Crew is effortless, like sliding on my favorite oversized sweatshirt and curling up with my favorite movie. There's a natural ease to our conversation, a rhythm we've quickly fallen into despite the newness of our relationship.

A peace I had long since forgotten settles over me. It's a peace that has been absent for way too long. I watch Crew animatedly tell story after story, his eyes brightening as my favorite smile stays plastered on his face. There's never any pressure to fill the silence with conversation. And I take that as a comforting sign.

I'm surprised at how at ease I have felt with Crew. It's a feeling I've felt since the moment we've met. There's safety in Crew's company, especially wrapped in his muscular arms as he plants soft kisses along my temple.

Crew drives us back to campus, and we park next to my Jeep in the nearly empty parking lot. Leaning over the console, I seek out his lips in the dimly lit cab. The only light filters in from a parking light near our spot.

Before I let things get too heated and we move to the back seat, I pull away. "Thank you for tonight."

"I'll follow you back to the apartment." He winks as I slide down. Shutting the door behind me, I glance over my shoulder as Crew waits for me to leave.

As I drive back to our shared apartment, I smile at the headlights in my mirror. For once, I didn't feel concerned about the person trailing behind me. Tonight, the man I love is following me home.

And later that night, when the apartment is dark and quiet, I slip into his room and crawl under his sheets. His strong arms pull me close as his nose rubs against my loose hair. Both of us find comfort in each other.

"I love you, Crew."

He hums, his lips kissing my neck through my hair. "I love you, too, Rebel."