Page 70 of Playing With Love

The softness in her gaze registered, but I’d pushed it to the back of my mind.

“That greeting card companies will invent anything to sell cards. Did you know there’s now something called a Friendaversary?”

God damn, she’d looked adorable the way her nose crinkled when she’d said Friendaversary.

“Is this your way of hinting I missed our Friendaversary?”

“God no. The last thing I need is another date not to forget. You’re lucky I remember your birthday’s in April.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t think of me every year when you file your taxes.”

“Like I wait until the deadline to file. Some of us aren’t procrastinators.”

Another missed opportunity to tell her how I felt.

Conversation flowed and hours had passed, when the topic of horoscopes had come up, which flowed into birth months having everything from flowers, to birds, to gemstones. That led to Liza pulling out her phone, looking up the symbols for each month.

“April. Flower is a daisy. Tree is maple, walnut, or rowan. Gemstone is diamond. Bird is canary or Wilson’s Warbler.” She paused, scrunched her nose then declared, “The warbler is cute but the canary is cuter. We’re going with the canary for you.”

Totally should’ve kissed the fuck out of her right then and told her I loved her.

“What are yours?”

A few seconds later, reading from her phone she told me, “I’m a Scorpio. My gemstone is topaz. Flower is chrysanthemum. Trees are walnut, we have that in common. Also, chestnut and ash. My bird is a…. rooster,” she finished on a giggle.

Every year after that, I sent Liza red chrysanthemums on her birthday.

She’d inked my canary close to her heart.

Jesus fuck, I couldn’t breathe.

I yanked the sheet over her and stalked to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me, twisted the faucet on, undressed, and stepped into the stall before the water warmed. The cold water did nothing to kill my erection.

With the icy water pelting my back, I fisted my cock and jacked off to vivid memories of my night with Liza from a decade ago. But it was the image of a canary, my symbol on her flesh, that sent me over the edge. I quickly washed and got out. I made more noise than necessary when I brushed my teeth and shaved in hopes it would rouse Liza. Now more than ever I needed her awake and dressed before I went back into the bedroom.

Thankfully that was the case, or at least she had her oversized shirt back on. Tragically, when I walked out I was in nothing but a towel that was only a fraction larger than a hand towel.

When her eyes landed on my bare chest, she froze.

“Sorry. Forgot to bring in a change of clothes.”

She said nothing. Made no move to step away from where she was standing in front of my bag.

“Lizzy?”

Fortunately, her gaze traveled north. Unfortunately, that gaze was hungry. My unhappy dick jerked and if I wasn’t careful she’d get an eyeful.

“This isn’t going to work,” she declared.

I didn’t know what ‘this’ was, but I knew if she didn’t stop looking at me like she wanted to jump me, the ‘this’ was going to work out in ways that would leave her screaming my name.

“Can I please get dressed before we have this conversation?”

“That’s exactly what we need to talk about. Or the lack thereof of clothes.”

“I apologized⁠—”

“Not you.” She lifted a hand and swept it over her now clothed body. “Me. How did I wake up naked?”