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“You’re more confident than you used to be. You’re in charge of your own life and it shows.” She breaks the spell by giggling. “I don’t know…is mature the wrong word?”
“Only if you pronounce it muh-tour like my mom does. Then, yeah, it’s the wrong word. Level with me.” I lean in, arms folded on the table. She mirrors my move. “If I asked you on a date, would you say yes?”
Her eyes flare with what might be excitement before shuttering a moment later. Fidgety, she digs through the pile of cast-off tacos in search of a perfect last bite. “Why? Are you wondering how you’re perceived on Tinder?”
“I’m wondering how I’m perceived by you.” It’s an honest statement—as honest as either of us has been so far.
Her tongue wets her bottom lip. She’s stalling.
“I work with ridiculously good-looking guys all the time. I hug them and kiss them. I strip down to my bra and underwear and climb into bed and pretend to have sex with them.”
I recoil. Not what I was going for when I fished for a compliment.
“You’re hotter than any of them.”
She doesn’t look away and I can’t. I’m transfixed by her. Towed in by the honesty she pounded me over the head with. She’s an actress, but I know when Allie is being genuine. She was always genuine when we were together. It’s an easy thing to spot.
“You’re realer and more grounded than any of them, Jax. You know who you are and you don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks of you. It’s very sexy.”
She ends that speech with a cheeky wink that feels a touch disingenuous. Like maybe she spilled the truth beans and wished she could scoop them back into the can.
Hell if my libido knows the difference. I sit a little taller for the rest of the meal.
