Ani’s heels clicked back over to the dress. “Good. I’d be bummed if I ruined it. I spent way too much money on it at a time when I really shouldn’t have.”
“Oh?”
Ani made a face, like she realized she’d said something she shouldn’t. She smothered the stain in salt. “It’s fine, though. Everything’s fine.”
That did not make it sound like everything was fine, but hehonestly had no idea what she was talking about and he was still a little dizzy from that view of her thighs, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Dish soap?” she asked him.
Raffi was grateful for a task that would tear his mind and eyes away from the oversized T-shirt that had somehow become the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He roamed the unfamiliar kitchen like it was uncharted wilderness, locating the sink, then a bottle of dish soap.
He returned to Ani and presented the bottle like a prize.
She snatched it from him, no time for their fingers to meet. Good. Wise. Probably for the best.
He shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t do something stupid, like reach for a paper towel just to get closer. He was a grown man. He had willpower. He had degrees. He had intimate knowledge of the 1855 wine classification system of Bordeaux. He could absolutely survive a woman in a baggy shirt and heels.
Still, he averted his eyes with monk-like determination and muttered, “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Ani glanced up from her work and regarded him. He caught the flicker of a smile tug at her mouth, like she could see right through him and was generously pretending not to.
He rubbed the back of his neck and took a big, possibly unnecessary step back. Just in case she was also psychic.
“I’m good for now,” she said. Then she busied herself with the dress again. “So, uh, was that a girl you’re dating?”
Raffi’s brain had to work fast, which was difficult at this stage of inebriation and horniness. A girl, a girl, which girl?
“Uh—” was what his mouth put forward.
Ani looked up from her dress with a skeptical expression. “The one who kissed you?”
He had been kissed? Oh!
“Riley? Oh God, no. We’re just friends, and I’m not her type anyway. No man is. That’s just her personality—excitable at parties, always kissing people.”
“Oh,” Ani said, shaking the salt off her dress with genuine surprise on her face. That was good; he could see the wheels turning and they were moving in his favor. This was, he realized, the first time Ani had shown any verbal interest in him in that way. He didn’t even know for sure if she was interested in men, although the way she had melted into him when he hugged her at the tile store, pretending to be a married couple, suggested she might be attracted to him. Was part of the reason she had run off so angrily not just because of the dress but because she thought he was hooking up with Riley?
Feeling brain cells returning to him, Raffi thought he should explain further. “She’s part of my book club, Mad, Bad, and Dangerous. I joined not realizing it was a feminist book club and—”
Ani froze, her hands buried in soapy water, her dress half-draped over the edge of the sink. “You joined—” she started, then stopped, pulling her hands out of the water and shaking them absently, droplets flying everywhere. “Wait, you arecurrentlypart of a feminist book club?”
Raffi was suddenly excited at the prospect of sharing about MBD. He loved having discussions with Riley, Lana, Maya, and Kennedy, having brand-new thoughts awaken. It was like he could feel himself growing, and he wanted to explain this to Ani.
“Sure am. Our latest wasSister Outsider, which—though I don’t say this lightly, even as someone who tends to be a generous reader—was genius. I’m trying to commit some quotes to memory. There’s one that’s been echoing in my head: how sometimes we’re blessed to be able to choose the manner of our revolution but most often ‘we must do battle where we are standing.’ I mean, damn. During the discussions I usually listen more than I speak, but when it comes down to it, I just love a good fucking sentence. A powerful sentence.”
Raffi had to stop his recap because Ani was staring at him open-mouthed and he was worried a fly had landed on his face or some other such horror.
“Who…are you?” she asked.
Raffi shrugged. “I like reading.”
Ani squinted at him, her head tilting slightly as if that might help her see him more clearly. She wiped her hands on a towel, her movements slow and deliberate, like she was buying time to process what she’d just heard. “Yeah, but shouldn’t you be reading books likeRich Dad Poor Dad? Or if you’re into fiction, like Ayn Rand or H. G. Wells?”
“Never really got into sci-fi.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Honestly, I stumbled into it. I didn’t realize what kind of book club it was, but the members, now my friends, were so patient and just plain kind to me. I felt like I could learn all this material without being judged. So I did.”
