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“So? That doesn’t matter,” I said. “It has nothing to do with the type of person you are.”
She considered me with a guarded gaze. “What type of person do you think I am?”
“I think you’re caring, in a real, tangible way. You care about people and the consequences of the choices we all make. You care about the environment and…” I circled my hand not currently in Gemma’s grasp behind her, as if I could encompass everything. “You care about what happens in the world, and you care very much for your mom. You might annoy the hell out of me, but I think you’re smart and funny and exactly what this planet needs more of.”
Her attention fell back to my wrist, and she skimmed her index finger over the face of my watch and the slap bracelet. “You thought I was rude when we first met, and I was. I made a snap judgment about you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
I gulped back my words to placate her because I knew—somehow felt it—that she needed to get whatever this was off her chest.
She turned her palm flat against mine. “I think you’re attentive and considerate and so damn perfect with your dumb shiny loafers and ironed shirts.” She moved her fingers in line with mine, her skin warm and slightly clammy as if she was nervous. I wanted to tell her there was no reason to be nervous, but she continued, “I’ve always been confident in who I was. I didn’t care that people thought I was a slacker or—”
“You’re not a slacker.”
She tossed me a reprimanding look for interrupting. “I’ve always gone where the wind’s taken me, and that’s how I like it. But lately, it’s felt… It feels like I’ve been falling further and further away from the pack. My friends are all gorgeous gazelles, leaping and running, and I’m the one with the broken leg about to be eaten by a lion.”
This time, I couldn’t help it; I needed to understand why she felt like she was living in the wild as opposed to standing in this crazy-loud Dave & Buster’s. “Just because you don’t have a full-time job doesn’t mean you’re going to be eaten.”
Lacing her fingers with mine, she nibbled on the corner of her mouth, and I’d lose the last of my patience if she didn’t spit it out soon.
“It feels like you’re the lion.”
I clenched my jaw, momentarily stunned into silence by her confession, but when she offered me a small, tight smile, the knot in my chest unwound a little.
“I think part of the reason I’ve been so defensive with you is because I always felt some kind of, I don’t know, pull or something. I didn’t want to believe it.” Her little smile widened to show her teeth. “I didn’t want to believe I could like someone so…” She waved her hand down my body.
“Flawless?”
“Exactly,” she said, shaking her head in faux scorn. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and I are completely opposite. I’m not exactly the sweater-set Barbie type, and my credit score is horrible.”
I sniffed, tugging her close with our joined hands, guiding her toward the counter with her prize in hand. “I don’t care that you don’t have a 401(k) or whatever it is you think you’re missing or self-conscious about. And you don’t care that I am, much like Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way.”
“I’d like to stuff you in Mary Poppins’s bag if I could.”
“That’s my girl,” I said and handed over the gaming card to the guy behind the counter before slapping the temporary tattoo down. “Where do you want it?”
“I’m not putting that on.”
“Yes—” I drew her arm toward me, flipping the inside of her forearm up “—you are. Them’s the rules.”
She began to argue, but I laid the sticker on the soft skin above the inside of her wrist and bent over it. I heard her suck in a quick breath when my tongue glided over the thin paper, and I took extra care to massage the wet sticker onto her flesh. Our gazes met, and she licked her lips, leaving them wet and so damn tempting.
And I gave in.
Right there in the middle of Dave and Buster’s, I wound her braid around my hand and brought her mouth to mine. She tasted tart like her drink, and I lapped up the flavor, wrapping my other arm around her waist, taking her weight against me so her feet barely touched the floor.
A throat cleared next to us, and I blinked back into reality as Gemma blew out a breath, her neck and cheeks blooming red.
If she thought she’d be eaten, she was right. My baser instincts were slowly surfacing, and the more she opened up to me, the closer I got, the more I wanted. Like an insatiable animal.
I held my hand up to the guy behind the counter in silent apology then peeled back the paper on her arm to reveal a two-inch, black, fire-breathing dragon. I skimmed my index finger over it. “This, Gemma, is art.”
“My mother’s going to kill me. I hope you’re satisfied when you’re sitting in the police station, being questioned about my whereabouts.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“You have met my mother, haven’t you? You think she’ll be fine with this on my arm at her wedding?”
I clucked my tongue. I hadn’t thought of that. “Sorry.”
