Page 85 of First Chance
“What color peonies?” He scratches his head as if he’s cramming for a test he’ll fail. We’re on the porch, debriefing about our relationship against his will.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Why does any of this matter? This is fake.”
“But on the outside, it needs to look real. You need to know all the little details that couples should know.”
He sighs roughly. “I know you like vanilla ice cream with chunks of chocolate and cookies, but not chocolate ice cream, and especially at night. You get your nails painted a differentcolor every two weeks. The last time you did your hair, you came back looking different, and I finally realized you’re not a blonde. I don’t know what that means in terms of hair, but I noticed. You’ve been watching movies during the day while you work, when you think I’m not paying attention. You talk to yourself while you type, and all of your sticky notes are in half print-half cursive.”
My jaw hangs open. “Wow.”
“I’ve seen your textbooks when you leave them lying out, you’re the smartest person I know, and we’ve been around each other for months, this won’t be hard for you.”
The smartest person he knows.
“I’ve never even had a boyfriend, pardon me if I’m a little intimidated.” I turn my back on him and stare out across the property, ignoring his flattering comment.
“You’re overthinking this.”
“Of course, I am. That’s what I do.”
“Don’t think of us as a couple.” I turn to him to protest, but he continues, standing closer than he was a moment ago. “I’m a man, you’re a woman. As long as you hover near me and brush your hand down my arm every couple of minutes, no one will question our… Familiarity,” he murmurs, standing so closely that he has to look down to see me.
“Like this,” I whisper, gripping the back of his bicep and letting my fingers fall gently to his elbow.
“Yes.”
“Or, this?” My other hand raises to his chest, my palm flattening to mold to his sternum.
He doesn’t confirm, but when I glance into his eyes, there’s a storm raging.
He’s told me that I’m a beautiful woman, gorgeous even,but he’s never admitted to being attracted to me. I always assumed men don’t see me as a sexual being.
But, something in his eyes tells me more than his words ever have. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“Should I stop touching you, now?”
“Yes,” he exhales the word, but stops my hand from leaving his chest with his own. He’s a very confusing man.
“What if…” He’s watching my mouth form my words so intensely that I can hardly complete my thought. “What if we need to do more than touch like this?” I swallow thickly as his brow furrows deeper. “What if we need to kiss?”
“Why would we need to kiss?” His low voice barely reaches my ears, even though we’re close enough to do just that.
“No one bats an eye when a soon-to-be married couple shows a little PDA. It’s expected,” I murmur, my breath skipping when his head leans immeasurably closer.
“You want your first kiss to be fake?” He asks, his hand cupping the back of my neck to tilt my head closer, and my heart beats like a drum against my chest.
“Technically, my first kiss was in 7th grade with a boy named Theodore.”
He grumbles deep from his chest as if he despises the thought. “Fine, your first kiss as an adult.”
“Yes.”
His face inches closer, near enough that my eyes flutter shut, until I feel his nose trace the line of my jaw, making me shiver. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
He releases me suddenly and is gone before I can blink my eyes open.
Chapter Thirty-One
