All right. We’ll keep Jaime.
“What’s the verdict, then?” I squeezed her hip. She was soft there, smooth and plush. My fingers could dig into her skin, cling to her, and I could leave marks if she let me. She wouldn’t let me. She wouldn’t because I’d never ask. “Do you hate it?”
“I don’t. It’s different than I remember. This whole place is different. Actually, it was pretty rude of Friendship to enter its cool phase after I left town.” She laughed again, the sound pulling at my gut. She made me want to wrap myself around her. Bury myself in her. “Is it different for you?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. And that was the truth. More often than not, I conducted business and lived my life without any of the agony from my childhood. But then there was always someone who wanted to know how I lost the weight (I had no clue; I turned twenty and everything about my body started changing) or if I could recommend the dermatologist who cleared up my skin (same as above) or if I was happy now (not in the way anyone would expect, no, but in other ways, yes). “People make weird comments. They say things that sound complimentary in their head but are like being smacked across the face with a dictionary.”
“I don’t like that,” she said, her words low enough to make me wonder whether they were intended for me at all. Then she glanced up from my shirt, her eyes dark and the crease between her brows deep. “I’ll be your human shield for that too.”
Too quickly, I said, “No need. I can handle it.”
“There’s a ton of shit Icanhandle,” she said, “and I’d still love if someone stepped in front of it for me.”
“Like what?”
Her lips pulled up on one side. It was a smirky pout and I wanted to kiss it off her face so hard, my jaw clicked. “Nothing. Not relevant.” She patted my chest as if she was punctuating that statement, ending it with hard finality. “I’ll stay for the game. I’ll give you some pointers on how to make it look like you’re completely in love with me and uninterested in anyone else.”
Yes. Show me what that looks like. I have no idea.“You think you can do that?”
“Here’s what you don’t understand about me: I’m amazing with projects. Give me a project and I’ll make it happen, get it done. Like preparing Gennie for the evaluation coming up. I have a clear, measurable goal, I know how to achieve it, and nothing else matters to me until I make that check mark and cross it off my list.”
“And now your goal is convincing people I’m in love with you?”
“Mmhmm. Easy peasy.”
Push me right off that pier.“Just for tonight? Or longer? What’s the timeline on this project?”
She paused, drummed her fingers on my chest. I had the perverse desire to grab that hand and suck on those fingers. I mean,perverse. “I am currently operating at a rate of one day at a time. I can give you tonight—”
My body heard something very different from what she meant. My body had ideas that went far beyond perverse. It was mortifying, really. The things I wanted were not simple or pleasant. They were demanding and intense and—andprimal. And if Shay had even the slightest idea of the images playing in my head, she’d take her strawberry-blonde hair and her schoolteacher bags and run away from me as fast as she could. And I’d want her to run away. If she heard even a sliver of the filth in my head, she’d never look at me the same way again. Hell,Ibarely let myself think about the things I wanted.
“—and we’ll see what the future brings.” She drew in a breath and stared into my eyes for a long, silent minute. It seemed like I was supposed to get something out of that gaze but the only thing I could do was study the cute little bow of her upper lip and imagine biting it. Then, “If that’s what you want. I wouldn’t want to rub myself all over you unless you wanted it.”
Fuck me.
Instead of offering that eloquent thought, I motioned to the trucks. “What do you want to eat?”
“I’m okay.” She shook her head, made a scrunched-up face as if she didn’t care. I didn’t buy it. “I don’t need anything.”
“They make quesadillas that are weird and incredible.” I pointed to the closest truck. “And those guys are Korean barbeque. Exceptional. Best I’ve ever had. Down there, that yellow truck, they do a variety of banh mi but their japchae is the hidden gem of their menu.” I gestured to a few other trucks. “There’s also the usual suspects. Pizza, grilled cheese, fries topped with things that don’t make sense but taste good.”
She stared at me, her eyes smiling and her lips pouting. It was like she was daring me to kiss her again.
“Tell me what you want.”
A breath stuttered out of her. “Wh-what?”
“What do you want?” I punctuated each word with a squeeze to her hip. “From the trucks. They’re going to close up and head out soon.”
“Oh. Right. Oh my god, yes, the trucks.” She heaved out a sigh and ran her fingers over my shoulder, down to my lower back. She drew swirls and circles as she hummed to herself and all the tension I’d stored there melted away. If she could do the exact same thing to my neck, I’d build a shrine in her honor. “I’m not sure. Is there something you’d share with me?”
Only everything in the entire world.
Since my options were split evenly between confessing that exact thing and leading her toward the closest food truck, I settled my hands on her waist and steered her in the direction of the quesadillas. “The French onion soup quesadilla is bizarrely good,” I said. “Same with the pot sticker quesadilla, but you can’t go wrong with the old favorite, barbeque chicken.”
As she studied the menu board on the truck, I slipped both hands into her back pockets. It was an indulgence I hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve but we were committed to this game. She’d said so herself. Still, she cut a subtle glance in the direction of Christiane’s last known location. I didn’t know if she was there and I didn’t much care. I was very busy twisting myself into feral knots over here.
“You should’ve told me about this little problem of yours,” she murmured.
