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“I get why you’re not interested.”
“You do?”
“Sure. You want to focus on school and work—”
“Please don’t use finger quotes.”
“Whatever. You have a job, and I was distracting you from that, getting you all hot and bothered before your business appointments.”
I laughed, refusing to acknowledge his arrogant assumption. “Again, the finger quotes aren’t necessary.”
“I know, but I like using them. They make conversation more fun. Like let’s say you had an appointment, but I stopped by your place ten minutes before you had to go. Let’s assume we start talking and, of course, it turns into bickering, and I suddenly—” Finger quotes. “—kiss you. That can’t be conducive to the sort of—” Finger quotes. “—work environment you’re trying to create.”
“You’re a jerk.”
He laughed. “Why? I’m just laying out a hypothetical situation.”
“Hypothetical because it’ll never happen?”
“Oh, it’ll happen.”
I rolled my eyes. “Does anyone ever tell you no?”
“All the time, but eventually, I get a yes. Especially from women. It starts out slow. Mmm, yesss… Then it gets a little more enthusiastic. Yes… Yes!” He used finger quotes to emphasize each impersonated female cry. “And then it’s all about giving her what I knew she wanted from the beginning.”
“Which is?”
“To be taken away. Life’s stressful. Sex is an escape. I can be that for … people.”
“You have problems.” He thought he could be that for me, but that wasn’t how I operated. I found escape in other ways—surrender wasn’t one of them. “And you’ve reached your finger quote quota for the year.”
“But you’re curious.”
“About what?” I laughed. “Sleeping with you? God, no!”
He grumbled and refilled his wine glass, then grimaced as he took a long swallow. “We gotta get you some better wine.”
“Leave my wine selection alone. I think it’s good.” I refilled my glass, finishing off the bottle.
“It tastes like my grandmother’s perfume.”
“And you drank that?”
“No, but when she walks into a room after Sunday mass, it’s strong enough to choke a horse. It sticks in your throat until Monday.”
“You know, at first I imagined you were charming. I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong about a guy.”
He raised his glass. “That’ll teach you to make assumptions. So, what do you say we watch a movie? I have a great one about this girl who’s house sitting, and something goes wrong with the alarm system, so she calls the company. When the rep gets there, they figure it out, but then the boiler breaks, and she takes off all her—”
“Are you describing porn?”
“I believe the appropriate term is adult film.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t say that with finger quotes.”
“I wanted to, but I was afraid you’d bitch at me again. And I’m told I have to work on my charm, so I’m trying to not piss you off.”
I suddenly realized I’d been smiling since the moment I walked into his home. It was strange to be so at ease with someone I mostly didn’t like. In the beginning, his attention had rattled me, but now… Something changed. We had … chemistry. I was having fun joking around with him, and in a way, I didn’t want it to end.
With only a few sips of wine left, I glanced at the clock. “If you really want to watch a movie, we can. But I have to go home after that.”
“Why, you got a hot date?”
“Do I look like I’m going anywhere tonight?”
He eyed my sweats and sloppy hair. “You’d look hot in a sack. How would I know what you have planned?”
“I’m off tonight, but I do have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“So?”
“So, do you have class?”
“No, but you made me eat that second piece of pizza, and there’s no way I’m missing my workout.”
His eyes rolled dramatically. “I can’t talk to you for the next three minutes. Come on. Let’s pick out a movie.”
I followed him into the den. “Why can’t you talk to me?”
“Because you won’t like what I say. Thriller or action?”
“Neither. Romantic comedy or drama. What were you going to say?”
He tossed some pillows around and searched for the remote. “I’m not watching a drama. I’ll do a comedy, but not a romantic one. And I can’t say it, because your whole gym comment proved you have screwed up girl thinking and that means I might upset you and you might start to do other girly things like cry or get all bitchy again.”
I grabbed the remote off the cushion as he lifted another pillow. “I won’t cry. Say it.”
“No.” He snatched the remote.
I scoffed. “Pussy.”
His head whipped around and he smiled. “Did you just call me a pussy?”
“Yeah. I don’t use girly terms like—” Finger quotes. “chicken.”
“Oh, you are a bitch. Fine. I was going to say how stupid it is that girls can’t eat two slices of pizza without developing some big guilt complex. Like that’s going to make you fat. You’re a twig. I hate that shit and most guys feel the same way. Just eat and shut up about it.”
