“It is, isn’t it?” His sigh sounded dreamy. Then he returned them to the subject. “So…Sam? Spy? Former special operations guy gone rogue and out to save the world one mission at a time?”
“Sort of all of the above, I think. I’ll fill you in on all the deets when I come home.”
“Fine.” Cesar pouted again. “But at least tell me you’ve kissed him. You’ve been dreaming of kissing him for sixteen years.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but no. Although…” She grinned devilishly. “Ihavebeen tempted to flash him my boobs a time or two. Or, you know, grab his head and smash his face into my cleavage.”
Cesar was quiet for a while after that. Then, “I mean, it’s not as classy as a kiss. But it’ll certainly get his attention.”
“Are you saying my boobs aren’t classy?” She huffed in mock affront. “I’ll have you know they are posh AF. If there was ever an award for swankiest tatas, mine would win.”
“You realize that right there is why men ghost you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She frowned.
“It means you’re too quick. To witty with a comeback. It’s intimidating.”
“Areyouintimidated?”
“Of course not, darling. But I’m gay. Snappy clapbacks come with the territory. Also, I’ve seen you on Saturday mornings with two-day-old makeup and crunchy hair while wolfing down a popcorn-sized bowl of Froot Loops in your SpongeBob SquarePants pajamas. After that, I couldneverfind you intimidating.”
“We can’t all be as well-groomed as Cesar or as glamorous as Cesarine,” she countered. “Besides, Saturdays are made for bad hygiene and poor breakfast choices. You’d know that if you’d get off that whole nine-step-skin-routine and Keto ride and join me in the land of drugstore bar soap and carbs.”
“And there you go again with the rapid-fire comebacks.” His sigh was dramatic. “Try tittering at Sam. Bat your lashes a little. See if that works before you assault him with your high-class titties.”
“I would rather eat a handful of CPU’s than titter or bat my lashes.”
“I don’t know what a CPU is.” She opened her mouth to explain. He must’ve sensed it because he rushed ahead. “Andpleasedon’t tell me. I’m sure the explanation is boring and dorky and I don’t have the time or the patience. Pete is taking me out to dinner at Maple & Ash. Can you believe it? He knows one of the sous chefs and was able to squeeze a reservation out of her. I just wanted to call and check up on you before we head out.”
She let loose with a theatrical sigh. “Bed-shaking sex with a golden god followed by a romantic dinner? I’m gladoneof us is enjoying a satisfying love life.” She glanced furtively at Sam. “Sam’s treating me like I’m still thirteen.”
“Which explains your impulse to flash him your boobs,” Cesar correctly surmised. “Well, that’s better than wrapping your legs around his head and rubbing your cooter in his face, I suppose.”
“No one uses the wordcooterexcept for guys named Jim Bob or Billy Joe.”
“I don’t have much experience with that particular body part. So what’s the preferred nomenclature?”
“Vulva,” she told him. “Or vagina. Of course, if you’re a fan of brevity, you can shorten that to vag. Pussy is also acceptable if you’d rather err on the side of slang.”
“Pussy sounds so sexual. And vagina and vulva sound so scientific. Isn’t there something in the middle?”
“I’m sorry, you have a problem with a body part used for sex sounding sexual?”
“You’ve gotten us off topic.”
“Right.” She realized. “What was the topic?”
“You finding a way to show Sam you’re no longer thirteen without resorting to shoving your boobs or girly bits in his face. If I may be so bold as to offer some advice?”
“Depends.” She curled her upper lip. “If it’s more tittering and lash batting then save it.”
“Kiss him.” Her mind blanked at the very notion. “Nothing too long or too kinky. Something simple. Something quick. If The Everly Brothers are right, he won’t know what he’s been missing until you kiss him.”
“I havegotto expand your record collection,” she said about the twenty albums he spun pretty much nonstop back at the apartment. He’d inherited the records from his grandfather, a man who’d been a big fan of that country/rock style popularized in the 50’s and 60’s. “You thinkmyreferences about CPU’s are bad? At least most people our age have heard of central processing units. No one younger than the age of fifty remembers The Everly Brothers.”
Instead of getting bent out of shape, he ignored her and repeated, “Kiss him.”
“Easier said than done.”
