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If I look ridiculous as I stand there blinking, she doesn’t say anything about it. I take a second to process this whole dumb moment, then I laugh.
Quietly, as one should in a library.
In a completely volume-appropriate voice, I say, “Did I just work really hard to ask you out while you were listening to music?”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide and lips parted. I have never noticed what a pretty mouth she has. Staring at her lips feels like a very good idea right now. But even as I do, I know I shouldn’t. Not now. Not here. Not while we’re trying to repair this trainwreck of a conversation. I tear my eyes from her lips when she answers me.
“Podcast. Library research.” She holds her ear buds in her palm as if presenting evidence.
I nod, because I have no idea what I’m supposed to say now.
“Did you?” she asks, her voice low and soft now.
“Did I what?”
An expression of confusion crosses her face, wrinkling her forehead and bringing her eyebrows close together. “Ask me out?”
I mean, yes. But there was a bit of a barrier.
“I tried. Maybe I’m out of practice.”
She smiles. “You can try again if you want.”
I put my arms on the desk again, and she looks at them.
I like watching her look at my arms.
Don’t flex,I tell myself.Do not flex. You’re not that guy.
Some caveman instinct ignores the thought. I can feel every muscle from fingers to shoulders tense up.
Sage looks at my face. A grin hovers at the corner of her mouth. I can’t tell if she’s impressed or horrified at my display of masculine idiocy.
She manages to change the grin to a polite smile and gives me her full customer-facing attention, like she’s waiting for me to say something.
Because for sure she’s waiting for me to say something.
“Do you want me to go through the whole thing again?”
“There was a whole thing?” she asks, and the way she looks down and then back up at me through those eyelashes? I’m thinking anything but doctorly thoughts.
I feel like I need to clear my throat again, but didn’t I just do that? I push down the urge and say, “There was. Trust me when I tell you it was charming.”
“Charming how?” she asks.
She’s flirting with me. This is a very good development.
“There was some quality research-based banter,” I say, shrugging it off like it didn’t matter.
“Some of my favorite kind,” she says.
I shake my head. “I’m not doing it all again,” I say. “Not if I have no idea if you’re even going to say yes.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m going to say yes. Yes.”
Warmth rushes over me.Yes. That is my new favorite word. “Careful,” I say. “If you keep talking like that, you might lose your reputation as a difficult woman.”
She looks surprised. “Do I have a reputation? Who said I’m difficult?”
