I clasp my hands in front of me and bat my eyelashes dramatically, hoping it’ll make him smile. The laugh that bursts from his chest is so bright, I thought someone turned more lights on in the room. Although I’ve just met him, I can see why he and his friends are as close as Savannah says they are.
“Are you always this cute?” he asks.
Did his eyes just sparkle? I can only imagine the years of practice it takes to achieve a fucking eye sparkle.
This has got to be a test. I tilt my face to the ceiling in a silent curse at the universe. Baby steps would have been nice. You send a hot, funny guy? I don’t think I’m equipped with the sheer willpower required to back away completely.
After a cleansing breath and a moment of brainstorming, I level with him.
“Smooth.” I force my eyes to roll and pray the blush on my cheeks isn’t as apparent as it feels. “Cheesy one-liners don’t work on me, though.”
“No problem. Give me your number and I’ll test out a few different approaches.”
“God, no. I hate the talking stage.” That sentence was meant to be an inner thought, but I seem to have lost my ability to keep it to myself.
“Yeah, let’s skip that,” he agrees. “No questions about your favorite color or ice cream flavor. Promise.”
I shake my head with a laugh as he reaches for the phone in his pocket. He’s entirely undeterred, so I’ll have to be firmer.
God only knows why I’m still standing here when I know full well that this man is a red flag wrapped in neon yellow caution tape. Indulging in the conversation is my knee-jerk reaction around above-average-looking men, unfortunately.
If his boldness weren’t so entertaining, I’d have already strutted away. There’s something interesting about his personality that I like, but the fact remains that playboys havenever served me well. And he most definitely gives off player energy. I quite literally don’t have time for that nonsense, noranyother type of man right now, for that matter.
This is my opportunity to demonstrate my capacity for growth—no more pathetic little Mesa Kate. The new version of me isn’t so easily wooed.
“How else am I supposed to beg you to come over later?” he goes on. “I’ll do it right here in front of everyone instead of texting if you want me to.”
“Are you being serious right now?” I lean back slightly and try to keep my face from revealing my amusement. “Don’t waste your time. I’m not looking for a boyfriend at the moment.”
“Is that so?”
I lift my chin. “Yes. And I’m far too busy for anything else, either.”
“Hmm,” he hums with a nod. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate. That must be pretty stressful. Wanna kiss about it?”
“You mean talk about it?”
“No.”
My brain saysdo not engage. My hormones? They’re encouraging him and already halfway to his room.
I tilt my head back to laugh at the ceiling. He’s too confident for his own good. What was the reason for my strict no-contact policy with men for the foreseeable future? Oh, right. Because I’m easily charmed, struggle to put up a front, and will fold any second now.
Woman with weak defenses in search of self-respect, here. I did not survive my last situationship just to be emotionally derailed by a man who asked me ifIwant to kiss about it.
He taps on his phone and then holds it out between us. Reluctantly, I take it and purse my lips at the screen, which shows a new contact entry that he labeled with the word ‘please’instead of a name.
“Please,” I say through more laughter. “You’re funny, Tripp. But if you were thinking that would land you a date, I’m sorry to say you chose the wrong girl.”
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
My smile is impossible to wipe away, even if I trail a hand down my face. “Sure. Alright then, let’s hear it. What were you really thinking?”
Damn my curiosity.
I move to give him his phone back, but he stuffs his hands in his pockets instead of taking it.
It’s nearly impossible to fight a step back when he leans toward me in the next moment. Our eyes lock as I wait for his confession. He lowers his voice so that, even a foot away, I can barely hear the words under his breath.
