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“Is this him?” someone whispers as if I can’t hear them.
“If it’s not, it should be,” someone else answers.
Tiffany blinks as if waking from a trance and then intertwines our fingers tightly. “Sorry, Harper. I’ll talk to you later and we’ll do more wedding planning. ’Bye, everyone!”
I think they answer, but I’m not sure because Tiffany is pulling me along with her by my hand. I’d take the lead, but I have no idea where she’s going.
Oddly, I find myself not caring as long as it’s with her.
Chapter 14
Tiffany
We’re not far from Daniel’s condo, thankfully. Especially as sexy as he looks right now. He’s wearing gray thigh-length running shorts and a white tank top, but it’s the look on his face that’s making me hustle as fast as my feet will carry me.
Somewhere along the way, a gust of wind tears my crown off, but I don’t slow, willing to lose it in favor of finding out what Daniel wants to talk about. He catches it with a nifty snatch, holding onto it as if the cheap bit of posterboard and school craftwork is precious.
He looks at the sparkles and glitter oddly, and maybe a little scared.
Of me? Or maybe what it represents? That’s laughable, but apparently, somewhat true.
But he doesn’t falter, running along with me.
Is this finally happening?
Is this real?
I fucking hope so because if this is some bizzarro world where he meant he wanted to talk about work, or Elle, or anything other than my kissing him and his kissing me back, I will likely die of mortification.
Or kill him for making me feel like I’m living in the middle of a Hallmark movie.
He slips his key in the door, and I take the moment to truly look at him, searching for any sign of hesitancy, in him or in myself. When there’s none, I feel like my entire world has shifted. I’m not sure either of us believes what’s happening, and it’s not until the door closes that time seems to start up again.
I’m about point two seconds from leaping at him and climbing on his cock when he steps back and looks over his shoulder. “Have a seat, please,” he says politely, but the storm in his blue eyes shows his warring emotions. “Make yourself at home.”
I tilt my head curiously, but he doesn’t explain further before disappearing down the hallway, and a moment later, I hear the shower turn on. I collapse to the couch, not sure what to do.
What if I’m reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if he just wanted to get down and dirty, we’re going to work up a hell of a lot more sweat than whatever he’d worked up on his run.
But he did say to make myself at home. That’s not something you say to someone when you want to have the ‘friend zone’ chat.
Does he mean get naked?
Or kick off my shoes and pull up that episode of Squid Game I’ve been meaning to finish watching?
I scoot around awkwardly on the couch, trying to figure out how to sit so I look comfortable and relaxed and not like I’m about to jump out of my skin.
But curled up in the corner of the couch feels defensive and sprawled out feels assumptive.
Finally, I sit up straight with my feet on the floor.
Yeah, sexy as fuck, Tiff. You really know how to be a seductress.
I roll my eyes at my own ridiculous thoughts, leaning back slightly so I don’t look like I’m waiting to be chastised by the principal back in school.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I pull it out, expecting it to be Ace giving me a hard time for bailing on Harper’s special moment. I’m already prepared to tell him that I’ll make it up to her somehow.
But it’s not Ace, it’s Ricky.
Make him work for it. You’re worth it.
He’s so sweet. Way more so than most people realize. And he’s at least confirming that I’m not misreading things. Probably.
After a minute, when I don’t reply, he adds, Unless you’re already riding away. Then just make sure you get yours. Ladies first, second, and third. Always.
And there go all my warm fuzzies about the big brute. Not that he’s wrong, but he doesn’t have to be so crass about it. I guess I should be thankful that he didn’t talk about his own uncle’s dick in graphic detail.
Then again, he also knows me and my sassy mouth well.
Too late.
I add an eggplant and the water droplets emojis and hit Send. True, it’s a tease . . . but maybe a future prediction, hopefully.
In return, Ricky sends a GIF of Joey Tribbiani covering his ears and screaming.
He knows I like my Friends reruns. I’m tempted to send back my own GIF, maybe Phoebe singing Smelly Cat . . . but nah. I smile and put my phone back in my purse as the shower turns off.
