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“Thank you,” she replied, smiling. No argument or preening, just confidence in her own worth. “I find you very handsome as well,” she said teasingly.
“Thank you,” I mimicked. But I wasn’t as comfortable with compliments as she was, and I couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped my lips.
“Are you embarrassed?” she asked with a surprised chuckle. “Mr. I’m So Sure of Myself?”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Yes, you are. You’re practically blushing!” She stretched her foot across the couch and gave me a little nudge with her toes. “What happened to the guy who couldn’t believe I turned him down for a date?” she teased.
“Number one,” I said, grabbing her foot before she could pull away. I ran my finger along the bottom of it, making her squirm. “I’m not embarrassed. And number two…yeah, I was really fucking surprised.” I laughed as she snorted.
“What?” I asked, beginning to massage her foot with both hands. “I don’t get turned down much.”
“Ha!” she said, getting more comfortable as she lifted the other foot so I could reach both. She stretched out on the couch and crossed her arms behind her head, leaning back against a throw pillow. “You’re not everyone’s type.”
I met her eyes, my expression completely deadpan, but didn’t reply.
In response, she snorted again and wiggled her toes. I liked that little snorting sound she made; it was fucking adorable.
“I don’t usually ask someone out if I think they’re not interested,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
“Fear of rejection, huh?” she said with a little laugh. “What in the world gave you the impression that I was interested that night? We barely spoke.”
“Actually,” I replied, giving her foot a squeeze, “I try to respect people’s boundaries. If I don’t think someone is interested, I don’t want to make them uncomfortable by making a pass. And you were interested that night—you were basically staring.”
She sat up quickly. “I was not!”
“Sure you were. I could practically feel your eyes burning a hole in the side of my head while I ate.” I was full of shit. She’d barely noticed me while we’d been inside the restaurant. It wasn’t until we were outside that I’d thought that maybe I had a chance.
“Perhaps it was because your table manners are atrocious,” she said.
“My table manners are impeccable,” I shot back. “Sushi is hard to eat with chopsticks.”
“Not if you have opposable thumbs,” she replied just as quickly.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
“Oh, my thumbs work just fine,” I said, digging my left one into the arch of her foot. “Perfect for massages.”
“And we’re back to cocky,” she said with a grin, flopping backward on the couch.
“I prefer to call it confident in my abilities,” I said, winking at her as I rubbed her feet.
“Don’t do that again,” she said seriously.
I immediately let go of her feet.
“No, keep doing that,” she said, nudging me with a foot. “Don’t wink.”
“Don’t wink?”
“No. It’s creepy.”
I sputtered, “What?”
“Winking is creepy,” she said, wrinkling her nose a little. “It’s weird.”
“I’ve never heard that before.”
“Really?” she asked skeptically.
“Yes, really,” I replied. “No one has ever called me creepy before.”
“You’re not creepy. Just the winking. It’s like the universal disturbing gesture of everyone’s weird uncle,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“I really like you,” I said with a sigh, smiling back at her. “But I’m not sure if this relationship is good for my ego.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “But I bet your personality improves exponentially.”
Dear God, I’d met my match.
Chapter 6
Sarai
Alex was incredible. I stared at him happily as he spoke, my feet still in his lap.
“I’m just saying,” he muttered, throwing his hands in the air, “if you’re putting a bunch of salt and pepper on your food, you’re pretty much telling whoever cooked it that it sucks.”
“That’s not true,” I argued, laughing as I pointed at him. “Some people like things spicier than others.”
“Fine,” he said. “But salt? Come on.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“Exactly,” he said in satisfaction.
“Okay, you might be onto something.”
“I am.” He shifted a little, then went back to softly rubbing my foot. “It’s rude to add a bunch of seasoning.”
“What about condiments?” I asked thoughtfully.
“Don’t even get me started,” he said with a huff.
I had no idea how our conversation had morphed into a debate about food, but I couldn’t deny how much I was enjoying it. I loved learning more about him, even little things. The smile on my face faded, though, as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable.
Alex had grown more pale as the night went on, making his tanned skin look sickly. He was trying to ignore it or maybe just hide it from me, but when he shifted for the tenth time in about fifteen minutes, I couldn’t brush aside how much pain he was in any longer.
