I shrug. “Around.”
Giselle huffs a giggle through her nose, but it sounds forced, not at all like the contagious sound of her usual joyous laugh. “Around town?”
Her question feels like a trap laid out to ensnare me. I highly doubt she wants me to admit that my actions with women are the very reason my friends and brothers call me a ‘playboy’. Nor do I think it’s right to lie to her and pretend I’m a saint.
Shaking my head, I swallow down another mouthful of fizzy lemonade. “I haven’t felt like going out much recently.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s been someone else on my mind,” I say truthfully, watching intently for her reaction.
“Hm.” Giselle’s index finger traces the circular rim of her glass. “Do I know her?”
I nod.
“Is she pretty?”
“Very.”
“Does she work at the gym?”
“She does.”
“Can she put her legs behind her head?”
Fucking hell…
My cock pulses in my trousers, thickening against my thigh, the blood from my brain pooling down south at a rapid rate.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say slowly, taking my chance and pinching a strand of Giselle’s hair between my thumb and forefinger. It’s temptingly soft. “But I’d like to find out.”
“Well…” Giselle sighs. “I’m sure if I can ask nicely, I can get Mrs Platt’s number for you, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even own a mobile, so you’ll have to call her landline and—”
Dropping the lock of Giselle’s hair, I move to pinch her waist. “You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”
She speaks around the paper straw lodged between her front teeth. “I’ve been told that a few times.”
My stomach flips, heart hammering against my ribcage.
I watch the way her eyes flick to my right eye, down to my lips and then back up to my left iris.
“So…” Giselle drags out. “You like this girl?”
“I do.”
“You’re attracted to her?”
I nod silently.
“What are you planning on doing about it, then? After I give you Mrs Platt’s number, of course.”
“I’m hoping to steal a kiss from her,” I say. “We can call it her birthday present to me.”
“Mhm… just a kiss?”
“Unless she wants something more.”
When Giselle breaks eye contact with me, staring out at the growing throng of people crowded inside the pub, I know I’ve taken it a step too far. She’s spooked about something. Sex? Sex with me? Being kissed? Has she never been kissed before? Is she a virgin?
