“Ok, not actual you. But theoretical you? Yeah, I couldn’t stand her.”
“So what did theoretical me do to deserve your disdain? You don’t strike me as a man who hates copyeditors.”
“Yeah, no. That wasn’t it. Do you remember how we met?”
“Um, yes...though I feel oddly like this conversation has turned into a pop quiz that I’m afraid of failing. You came to fix my computer.”
“Kind of. I actually came to yell at you for breaking it.”
“Oh.” That’s all I’ve got.
“I was in the IT office when the call came in, and when I heard that one of the copyeditors destroyed her machine, I went a little apeshit. See, I’d just been hired, and I’m a little protective of the machines, as you now know. So, I decided to go down and give you hell.”
“Hell I likely had coming. Merv was acting up, as I recall, but he did not deserve that latte.”
“He didn’t.” Simon nods somberly. “So, I knocked and walked in and I was all ready to come at you with elitist geekboy speak, right? But then you turned around, and I swear my heart stopped beating for a moment.”
“Simon. That is ridic—”
“I’m not exaggerating. You were the single most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” He runs his hands through those tangly curls I love. “I think it’s fair to say I don’t pay most people a whole lot of attention. But, damn, you were like the sun. I couldn’t look away. It was like my mind wandered into this, this porno where my nemesis was this totally hot chick and...Oh God, I’m messing this up, right? I should not have mentioned porn.” He laughs with self-deprecation, and I laugh, too, because I enjoy the hell out of his rambly monologues. “Look, what I’m trying to say, albeit awkwardly, is that from that very first meeting, I’ve been hooked. You’re stunning. And then you started talking about your computer like he—it—was a guy. A guy named Merv who had seriously pissed you off at some point. And you told me my services were no longer needed, and you explained that you’d ordered a hat and a rabbit online and I thought,God, she’s crazy, but it’s a good crazy.So..say what you need to say, but just know that I’m in, ok? I’ve been in for an embarrassingly long time.”
“Well, I…”
“I freaked you out, didn’t I? I’m not trying to come off as some weirdo, but…”
“No, you’re good. No weirdo vibes. I mean, we know each other pretty well. And, we’ve had sex. Lots of sex. More sex in the last 48 hours than I’ve had in the last three years.”
Kelli chooses just this moment to deliver our milkshakes. My cheeks flame red, and I’m seriously contemplating diving under the table. Simon’s just sitting there, smiling, and toying with one of the cherries that’s perched on a mountain of whipped cream on his chocolate shake. And now that I’m thinking about it, he’s got way more whipped cream than I do and double the cherries. He reaches for my hand, and I slowly raise my head. “Oh my God! I can’t believe I admitted that to you. I can’t believe I said it so loudly. I…”
“Chill, Lainie. It’s ok.” His smile should be reassuring, but my embarrassment has me blushing scarlet.
“Chill? I just screamed to our waitress and anyone else in earshot that you’ve broken my three-year-long dry spell by having your way with me over the course of two days,” I whisper-hiss.
“Yes, chill. One, you didn’t scream. Seriously. I’ve heard you scream. It’s way louder. Two, I doubt anyone heard you.Three, ok, maybe Kelsey did, but who cares? That can’t be the worst thing she’s ever heard on her shift.”
“It’s Kelli, not Kelsey. Two l’s, one i.”
“You are so hot when you proofread. Or would it be proofhear? Is that a thing?”
“You are ridiculous.”
“You say that to me a lot. I’ve decided to take it as a compliment. Now, let’s get back to more sex than you’ve had in the past three years combined. Are we including self-service in that, too, because that would be a damn shame. And also, something I’d like to witness, while we’re on the subject.”
Thankfully, our burgers arrive, and I’m saved from having to answer that question. We sit in silence for a few minutes and enjoy our food. It strikes me—and not for the first time—that I just like being with him. Sure, he’s ridiculous. Outlandish, even. But he’s also kind and funny and sweet and flirty. I can almost relax with him, and that’s a rare and lovely thing. He nabs a few of my fries and unabashedly swipes the lone cherry from my milkshake. I steal fries from his plate—he’s the one with the double order—and I suck on my milkshake straw with relish and fervor. Two can play at this game, for sure.
We’re both halfway through our meals, and I know the time has come to speak up. I really do owe him an explanation. And a confession.
“So, you know how you said you wanted to hate me at first sight?”
“Well, technically, I wanted to hate you pre-first sight. First sight, I wanted to fuck you like it was my job.”
“Same.”
My one word response and all it implies catches him off guard. He nearly chokes on his milkshake, and I realize I timed this poorly. He coughs a bit and even puts his hands up like mothers instruct their kids to do when they’re choking. He takes a minute, probably to check his air flow, and then stares at me with a question in his eyes. “Say what?”
“I wanted to have sex with you. So much sex.” I’m whispering now. There’s no way I’m making any more public declarations about my sex life.
Simon seems intrigued. “Really? Like how much? And what kind? Feel free to get as specific as you’d like. I’ve got a notebook, if you’d like to provide diagrams.”
