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The ride home didn’t do what I wanted. It wasn’t the words that lingered with me so much as the implication. That I’d been too stupid to see Graham manipulating me. That this was anything other than my idea. That I was so naive I was willing to break the law for a grade. For sex? I wasn’t even sure.
If I was going to be accused of doing reckless things, I wanted it to be for the right reason—because I wanted to prove I could—not because my vagina thought my teacher was pretty and I was too young and stupid to tell it no.
When I got home, I sifted through every piece of clothing I owned. Twice. I needed something that made me look less flighty. More mature. Smarter. Not a decade younger than the men I was dating.
The Captain Marvel dress wouldn’t give me the look I wanted. Neither would the sweater with the Minnie Mouses on it.
What would Judith wear? She commanded respect just by standing in a room.
I finally landed on the same blouse I’d worn the day Oz told me he liked me. It was professional, it made my eyes bright, and it had that confidence of Oz’s kisses attached to it.
I added my nicest jeans, went all out with my make-up, and pulled my hair up.
Oz and some of his people had been hired to do some higher end, last minute wiring for the exhibition we were going to. I should’ve taken him up on his offer to help, and skipped this morning’s interview.
No going back now.
When I answered the door to Graham, he stared at me for a moment. “You look incredible.”
“More than normal? Do you like this better?” I hated that my insecurities were showing through.
“There’s no better or worse for you. Any way you look is another color on the rainbow of how gorgeous you are. If you answered the door in an Elmo costume, I’d be an instant furry.”
His kiss was quick, but it warmed me from head to toe.
“Is this about the show earlier?” Graham asked.
And there was the memory I was trying to ignore. “Maybe.”
“I’m not worried about it, and you shouldn’t be either.”
“But they implied—”
“And they were wrong. About you and me and every single one of their assumptions.”
Hearing him back up my thoughts made me feel better. I grabbed my purse and we were on our way.
“Do you want me in an Elmo costume?” I asked as Graham drove. I needed to talk about anything but earlier, and that was the first ridiculous thought that flitted close.
“I want you. Full stop.”
“But Elmo is super specific.”
Graham moved his arm to drape over my shoulders. “Because I assume you giggle and squirm when you’re tickled.”
I was super ticklish. “Do not.”
He brushed light fingers along my neck, his touch so barely there it was like a feather.
I sighed at the faint contact, until he hit a specific spot, and a squeal escaped my throat, turning to a laugh. I didn’t want to break away, but the tickling became too much. “Okay. I yield. Elmo costume then?”
“No costume. But I am wishing now I’d tried that while we were back at your apartment.”
I hadn’t entertained that fantasy before. One where his fingers were gliding over my body until I was squirming and couldn’t breathe and he was pinning me down with his full weight.
Graham was too sophisticated for something like tickling. But apparently not.
“Something to try next time,” I said.
