“I’d say the length means I’m lazy.” He reaches for his beer, washing down his sandwich. “But yeah, I guess I blend in.”
I cock my head and study him. “No. You don’t blend. Not the way you ride a bike.”
“Now you’re just trying to make me feel like I’m not average.” He nudges me back.
“I did tell you I’m not good at small talk.” I bite my lip to stop myself from saying anything else awkward.
“This isn’t small talk, it’s conversation. I like it.” There’s a raw honesty to his voice that makes me believe him, even though I think my personality assessment rattled him.
“What makes this a conversation?” My voice is oddly soft, almost like I’m afraid of the answer.Maybe I am.
“Conversation makes you think.”
“Small talk doesn’t?” I know I sound skeptical, but how do you start talking to someone if you don’t first think about what to say?
He swallows even though there’s nothing in his mouth. “If I asked what’s your favorite sandwich, do you have to think about that or can you answer right away?”
“Rueben,” I say on autopilot.
“And if I asked why pink is any less boring than say, red? Or purple?”
I hold my breath in my lungs, replaying his words. “I’d say pink is unpredictable. It can be quiet and soft, or loud and bold.”
Blake’s eyes meet mine, something like pride anddesirein his gaze. “See what I mean?”
Wow. A flood of thoughts and emotions race through my brain faster than I can register what they are. He’s got my head and my heart working in overdrive, both of which seem to be screaming at me not tolet this moment end. I mean, it will eventually since he’s just visiting, but until then? I don’t think I could walk away from him right now if I tried.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I whisper.
“My hotel is around the corner.”
***
“You win. Pink is not boring.” Blake stumbles toward the bathroom to discard the condom, coming back to bed with an almost dazed look on his face.
“Are you saying hair color dictates how good a person is in bed?” I pinch his hip, atinywarning to think about his answer.
He squirms out of my reach. “I’m saying I’ve never had anyone reach underneath while I’m pounding them into the mattress to rub my balls. A, the flexibility was impressive, and B, it felt incredible.You’rethe one correlating hair color with good sex. Although, based on recent experience, I agree with you. Pink hair equals good in bed.”
“That’s so not what I was saying.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “But I’ll let it pass since you’re giving me a compliment. I think.”
“Of course it’s a compliment.” He rolls to his side to face me. “You don’t take those very well, do you?”
I didn’t realize I’d given off that impression, but since he’s not wrong, I won’t argue. That doesn’t mean I’ll spill all my baggage, but I can at least be somewhat honest about why I distrust approval.
Rolling my head to face him I offer a weak smile. “Most of the time compliments come with a qualifier, at least in my experience. You’re prettyfor a guy. You’re strongfor a small guy. You’re more maturethan you look. Stuff like that. All that shit is arbitrary, more of a genetic outcome than something I actually did, you know?”
“I hear you; it’s nice to get approval for things you do as opposed to what you look like, but you do realize you hit the genetic jackpot, right?”
“Um, what?” My gaze dips to the mattress before it’s forced upward when Blake lifts my chin.
“You’re pretty, period. Actually, the word I’d pick is stunning. I’ve never seen such blue eyes before, and your lips… It’s almost impossible for me not to stare at them.”
“I… Thank you for not adding a qualifier, but those are still arbitrary things I have no control over.”
“Did you forget how I said you were good at conversation over dinner?”
“I…” I did actually forget about that.
