This has a bit of a backstory. Scroll to
—– for the good stuff
I’ve always been a flirty person, especially if I find you attractive. I’m into men, women, and people and I don’t care if we’re just friends, if you already have a girlfriend, or anything. If you’re hot I feel compelled to flirt with you, simple as that.
When Devon first started I found myself instantly attracted to him. He was tall, had dark hair and I often found myself looking at his large strong hands as he cooked. That’s right, this is a tale as old as time, a server and a kitchen guy. He wasn’t loud or obnoxious which is often an unfortunate baseline in the frequently hypermasculine kitchens in the restaurant industry. He was funny, good at his job and when he smiled at me something about it felt like we already had a secret between us. So of course it wasn’t long before I started inviting him out with my group of work friends. We were very flirty and often shared cigarettes, and he’d pulled the classic kitchen flirt move of adding extra things to my food I hadn’t paid for. Sometimes when I’d reach over and wipe the far end of the tables I’d feel his gaze on me and I’d whip around to find him staring at my ass. We’d exchange intense eye contact over the pass and the way he looked at me made heat rise in my cheeks.