I doubt she’s talking about doing me. Though it would kinda be nice.
Sy? Oh, Loki. Right. I mean, who wouldn’t do him? “I’m straight, but even I’d consider doing Tom Hiddleston.”
She nods. “Makes sense. I’m straight, but I’d totally consider doing Scarlett Johansson.”
My heart skips faster. “You like Marvel?”
That impassive look tells me I asked a stupid question. Does she look at herself in the mirror and spend time practicing casual poker face?
“I might,” she allows.
“What else do you like?” I’m leaning toward her now, like I’m being pulled into her orbit, as though one morsel of information about who she is, what she likes, might be the key to unlocking why I’m so drawn to her.
I can’t say it’s love at first sight, but I’m definitely smitten, and her cool, don’t-give-a-fuck vibes only serve to lure me in even more.
“I didn’t say I liked Marvel.” She has me there.
“Didn’t say you didn’t either. Well, I know you like PB&J.”
“I likedyourPB&J.” That tiny crumb of praise makes my soul leave my body. But I’m determined to play it cool. Or at least pretend to. Externally. If only my brain could communicate the message to the dumbass smile spreading across my face.
“And you don’t like hockey? Or just hockey players?”
She levels me with a flat stare that shrivels my balls.
“Okay. Noted. What about other sports? Do we hate all sportsballs and sportspeople? Or just the frozen ones?”
Her eye rolls are so impressive I might make it my mission to outdo myself with every single one. She may even have strained her eyeballs with that last one.
“I like football.”
“Go Hawks. Am I right?” Hope has my heart on a frayingstring. If she’s an Iowa State fan, I’m going to cry right here in fake prison.
We have our own football team here at the University of Cedar Rapids, but it’s fairly new. And we suck so damn bad that most of us wish we didn’t have a team at all. Even though we outwardly cheer for our own school, everyone has an inside voice cheering even louder for the Hawkeyes.
Most of us cheer out loud for them too.
“I dunno.” Her tongue trails along her full bottom lip as she flicks her auburn curls over the shoulder of her orange jumpsuit. “Cy is kinda cute.”
Cy is the Cardinal bird mascot thing for Iowa State. I can’t quite tell if she’s fucking with me until she bursts into laughter so melodic I don’t care that it’s at me.
“I can’t even say Herky is cute. Dude’s kinda scary,” I say.
She laughs again. “I wouldn’t fuck with him.”
“Please tell me you’re not a State fan, Firecracker.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not sure I can date someone who cheers for the wrong team.”
She laughs again. “I’d fuck you. But I won’t date you.”
I shake my already spinning head. So she’d fuck me, huh? Good. Glad to know whatever spark of attraction I felt goes both ways. Though trying to send the message to my dick that this woman is a lady, and we’re in a public space is taking longer than I’d like. “Oh, yes. I forgot. No more men. Ever. Except…” I gesture to my crotch. “When you need to scratch an itch.”
Her nose wrinkles and a stray curl falls forward into her face. “If it’s itchy, it’s not coming near my vagina.”
Her frankness is refreshing. I take it back. It might be a love at first sight story after all.
