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Oh, I liked her like this. “Well, I suppose that’s not wrong.”
“Of course, your being here instead of using said flirting skills could be a testament to the fact all those stories about your flirting are trumped up exaggeration?” she suggested cheekily.
“Is that what you think?”
“I can only call it like I see it, Lombardi.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, righto. I suppose Carter’s full of witty flirtation.”
That seemed to turn off whatever light was making her shine. “Mason’s sincere–”
“And you think I’m not.”
“I never said that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I assume it based on how many girls you seem to get through.”
Look, it was fair. But it was suddenly very important to me that she realised I could do sincere…if there was ever any need for it.
“Just because I share, does not make me insincere.”
“How sincere can you be when you move on right away?”
“I live in the moment, Barlow. Something I feel you need to learn more about.”
“There will be no inappropriate touching or fondling, Lombardi.”
“How about appropriate touching and fondling? I do a very good appropriate fondle.”
She looked at me and I threw her a wicked smile that she seemed incapable of not returning.
“I can never tell when you’re being serious or not,” she said softly
“Really?” I asked.
The last two nights, I’d felt like there was something between us. Nothing romantic, or anything as hideous as that. But an understanding. Like, of all the people in the world, we understood one another effortlessly. Like we clicked on some level that neither of us could make sense of.
As we looked at each other, I realised she was lying. She knew. She felt it, too. This pull or whatever it was.
“Really,” she replied as she rearranged.
“All right, then,” was all I’d say.
If she didn’t want to acknowledge this weird thing that was happening, I wasn’t going to be the one to make her. It was strange enough that I’d recognised it and hadn’t run for the closest hill. I was in no hurry to explore it or make it any more real than it already was.
