Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I’m definitely sure I don’t want to talk about hockey though, so I don’t go fishing in the do we know each other waters. Instead, I return to the clothing hunt and wait for her to go next.
“So what’s yours?” she asks. “Your favorite color?”
“Do people still have favorite colors?”
“You just asked me mine! Are boys not allowed to have a favorite color?”
I smile, shaking my head as I find a cute pair of pants and lift the hanger from the rack. “I don’t really have one.”
“Everyone has one. Some people are just more aware of it. For others it’s subconscious. So what’s yours?”
I consider her heart-shaped face, her pink lips, her bright-eyed attitude. Her mouth that hasn’t met a question she doesn’t have a comeback for. Then, her eyes. They caught my attention from the second I saw her outside the gallery. “Blue.”
She freezes for a second, like my answer’s sinking in, then maybe it hits her, because she rolls her lips together, then says crisply, “Noted.”
Jerking her gaze away from me, she turns to the black pants I’ve grabbed, taking them from me.
Hold the fuck on. Did I read her all wrong? Maybe the blush was because I embarrassed her? Maybe she legit needs help, the very single convo aside. I home in on that and give her the Phillips-head screwdriver she needs. “Let’s get you a white top to go with that, and some new shoes.”
Quickly, I choose some options and hand them to her. She heads to the dressing room, the door clicking shut. I wander around the store, getting a little distance as I chew on the best way to figure out where her mind’s at when the door swings open again.
I spin around.
She’s standing in front of it in a pair of pants that flare at the bottom and a white sweatshirt that slopes off the shoulder and shows off a sliver of pale flesh. And a sparkly belly button ring I want to lick.
My mouth goes dry. My mind goes haywire.
She juts out a hip. “What do you think, honey?”
Like she said to me back at the gallery when we were role-playing. Maybe I didn’t read her wrong. “It’s very, very you…sweetie,” I say.
“Good.” She takes a deep breath, then her voice pitches up as she adds, “Because I would love to wear it to take you out for an ice cream right now. To say thank you.”
That is so very specific. It’s not the typical let’s have a drink. Not that I’d say no to a drink with her. “Ice cream?” I ask, my improv skills flying out the window, because it’s a little surreal, her question, given where my mind was earlier.
She swallows, then nods. “Do you hate ice cream?”
“No. God no.” My brow creases. “Who hates ice cream?”
“Ice cream haters?” She sounds nervous.
“Not me. Definitely not me. I’m just a little freaked out that you’re reading my mind.”
She breathes out a sigh of relief. “I had a feeling since you were kind of into the ice cream porn earlier. When we walked past The Scoop a while ago, you stared at it like it was the source of all your fantasies.”
Pretty sure she is my fantasy right now. “Let’s get ice cream. But on one condition.”
“Okay,” she says, a little tentative.
I step closer and set a hand on her arm once again, watching as her breath hitches her chest. “It’s a date.”
Her smile sends a shiver down my spine. “It’s a date.”
I set a hand on her back and walk her to the register, making a mental note to text the guys and let them know I’m bailing. When we leave, with her old clothes in a bag and her new ones on, I barely give a second thought to my car, several blocks away. I can get a parking ticket for all I care. I’m not doing a damn thing to throw a wrench in the first date I’ve looked forward to in more than a year.
That’s the real surreal part of tonight.
5
BIRDS DO IT
Josie
Just because I haven’t been on a lot of first dates doesn’t mean I don’t know the basics. Research queen here. And a queen needs her phone, especially since I’m going to put my location tracker on for Maeve.
I soldier on for another half mile of free-range boobing as we walk till we reach my friend’s yellow building. “I’ll just grab my phone and be right back.”
“Take your time,” Wesley says, then pops in earbuds and leans against the railing as I unlock the door.
Buzzing with excitement, I rush inside, then wrap my arm around my chest as I hurtle up the three flights of stairs in my new flip-flops till I reach B4. I uncrinkle the napkin I’ve been clutching all night, then punch in the long code lightning fast, and hallelujah!