I just stare at him, letting him talk himself into a rambling mess. I should stop him, tell him he’s wrong on every single level, but I can’t find the words. He was asking me out.
He was asking me out.
Josh Graham asked me out.
I swallow, and hold out a hand, pressing it to his elbow. “Stop,” I say finally. My voice shakes, but he needs to hear it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Like,nothingwrong.”
“I did hit you with a football,” he says, deadpan.
“Was that in an attempt to ask me out?” I say, lifting an eyebrow. If so, that takes boys pulling girl’s hair on the playground to a whole new level.
He smirks. “No, definitely not. It was an accident, but I keep wondering if maybe you’d have given me a chance if I didn’t injure you first.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, sitting straighter. “Is this a joke?”
He blanches, then looks over me, letting his feet slide down into the sand. “No.”
My heart pounds. He’s lying. He has to be. The silence stretches on for a while, and then Josh lifts up a finger like he just had a lightbulb of an idea. “Are you, like, the ex of some mafia guy?”
I lift an eyebrow and he continues. “And he put out a notice that no one is allowed to date you and that’s why you think I’m crazy for asking? Because I didn’t get the memo? Is my life on the line here?”
“I have no mafia ex-boyfriends,” I say slowly. “Seriously, is this a joke?”
I can’t exactly read minds, but the look on his face makes me think he’s sincere. “It’s okay, Bess. You don’t have to tell me. I was just wanting to learn how to fix my flirting skills. I’m sick of being single, ya know?”
The way he says my name makes chills tingle up my arms. I want him to say it again, but I can’t be sure all of this is even happening. “Guys don’t ask me out,” I say, my voice coming out much softer than before.
Josh studies me, his dark eyes piercing into mine. “Then they’re just intimidated. Or fucking idiots.”
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. This entire conversation might as well be in French because I don’t understand any of it. I’m not entirely convinced that I’m even here right now, experiencing this. Maybe I fell and hit my head in the storage room at the back of Aiden Jane and this is all a dream until I regain consciousness.
My laugher makes Josh smile. He takes out his phone, running his thumb over the dark screen. “Maybe we could be friends?”
I hold back another laugh and toss my hands in the air. “Sure. Yeah, whatever. My Instagram name is BessNavarre. Two R’s.”
He quirks an eyebrow, but nods and slides his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll look you up when I’m back in the shop. I can’t see shit on this screen with the sunlight on it.”
I’m not sure if that’s an excuse or what, but right now I don’t really care. I can’t stop smiling, and I’m pretty sure this is all still a joke.
Life is weird as hell.
“Thanks for talking to me, Bess,” Josh says, flashing me another one of those heart-melting smiles.
“Anytime,” I say. I look back out at the ocean, and he stands up, dusts the sand off his backside, and then waves goodbye.
