It’s not cold between us, just weird.
Like we’re both pretending that night didn’t happen, even though I think about itwaymore than I should.
As I walk up to her door, the aroma wafting from her apartment is mouthwatering. She’s cooking for us tonight, and I’m excited to see what she has in store. If the smell is anything to go by, I know I won’t be disappointed.
There’s a rustling behind the door shortly after I gently knock. When she pulls it open, I’m slightly caught off guard. Alex is wearing a pair of ripped jeans, basically to shreds, and a tank top. Completely casual as she walks around in bare feet, I can’t help but notice her toenails are painted bright aqua, matching her hair. There’s something about her, and I realize once again that I’m staring. A slight smirk appears on my lips as she looks at me and pushes my shoulder with a huff.
“What are you grinning at?”
I look back up at her face and shake my head, then step into her apartment with a bottle of stout in one hand and some ice cream in the other. “Is every color on your body aqua?”
She draws her eyebrows together, looking down at her toes. “You don’t like aqua?”
“No, I love it. I just don’t know what it stands for.”
“Well, technically, aqua or turquoise represents…” she takes a breath, “… refreshing, feminine, calming, sophisticated, energy, wisdom, serenity, wholeness, creativity, emotional balance, good luck, spiritual grounding, friendship, love, joy, tranquility, patience, intuition, and loyalty, and I’m all about those things.” She takes another deep breath. “But it’s also a freaking awesome color.”
“It is, and it suits you. Don’t change for anyone.”
“I won’t. Anyway, come in. I’m cooking Mexican!”
“Get out,” I say as she closes the door behind me, and the aroma flowing through her apartment has me salivating.
“Nachos and Fajitas… extra guacamole, of course,” she adds the last bit as if she knew I liked extra guacamole. We’ve only had one conversation about Mexican, and that was to buy her Taco Bell on the way home that time. And that doesn’t really qualify as Mexican, so it’s obviously just something we both love.
“Of course, I freaking love Mexican, there’s nothing better,” I say.
She tries to hide her smirk as she looks like she’s bursting inside, but then lets it out anyway. “Except great sex.” She opens her eyes wide like she’s almost embarrassed by what she’s let slip, then shakes it off, standing taller and strutting over to the stove, waggling her ass from side to side. Making me, of course, study her in those damn tight jeans.
That woman has a rocking ass.
And now I’m thinking of sex.
Sex with Alex.
I clear my throat with a chuckle and shift over to the refrigerator, placing the ice cream in the freezer and the stout on her kitchen table as she goes about making dinner. The elephantin the room is clearly evident between us, but neither of us is obviously going to bring up the other night on the phone, so I figure it’s best just to continue like it never happened.
Like we’re just friends who flirt a little.
“So, what can I do to help?” I offer instead.
“Um… well, do you wanna eat on the sofa or in the kitchen?”
Looking at the sofa, I go with option one. “Sofa, it’s lazy but comfy.”
She nods and starts plating up. “Pour us a drink and head on in. I’ll be there in a sec.”
I grab a couple of tumblers from the rack on the kitchen counter and fill the glasses with stout. The foam froths at the top, and I smile, loving that Alex is not the typical woman who needs wine or cocktails. She’s more like a guy when it comes to drinking, and that impresses me.
Taking our drinks to the sofa, I take a seat. After placing our beer on the coffee table, I set to fluffing up the cushions. Alex comes over with a big plate full of nachos, and she sits down next to me. Our thighs touch, and a tingle shoots up my leg as she places the bowl on a cushion. Alex leans against me and waggles her eyebrows.
“Can you hear it?’ she whispers, and my forehead creases.
“What am I supposed to be hearing?”
“Eat me,” she whispers, and I’m sure my shocked reaction is priceless. “Eat me,” she says louder this time. She grabs a nacho chip, dips it in salsa, guacamole, and sour cream, then shoves it straight into her mouth.
I take a deep breath, realizing what she meant, but for a second, for a split second, especially after our text exchange, I thought she was propositioning me.
