I sniff. “I know he didn’t mean to, and I’m not even sure he realized it happened, but as Mr. Anders was guiding me inside tonight, he scooted me in, via…rump.”
“Hewhat? There isnoway a man does that without realizing.”
“I really don’t think it was on purpose. He seemed a little distracted. The streetlight was being weird. He was probably peeved that he’d have to call someone to fix it. I don’t know. Mr. Anders is scary in amight be a cannibalway, not awill sexuallyharassyouway. Before today, he’s not laid a finger on me in four years.”
Fawn blinks at me, then turns toward the light as it changes. “Because the possibility of being eaten is…better?”
“Obviously.”
“Right, silly me.” She hums, rapping her thumbs against the wheel. “To be fair, I didn’t get any danger vibes off him tonight. He’s totally standoffish, like you said.”
I don’t recall using the wordstandoffish. I believe my description came closer toperpetually bothered. The grump to end all grumps. I’ve read stories marketed as grumpy/sunshine with descriptions of men who would sound pleasant compared to Mr. Anders.
“You’ll still be able to get married,” Fawn lies. “It was a non-sexual accident. Like when Mrs. Levine sees…literally any opportunity to smack anyone on the bum.”
Mrs. Levine’s assaults also bother me an extreme amount, but I don’t think Fawn understands. I can stillfeelthe imprint of Mr. Anders’s hand cupping my entire backside. My soon-to-be primary boss—a billionaire nine years older than me—is in my head, because I can’t shake the sensation.
It’s the most intimate action a man has ever subjected me to.
Therefore, Mr. Grim Reaper, sir, I would so dearly appreciate a one-way ticket across the River Styx.
“I have never experienced such scandal before in my life,” I whisper into my hands.
“It was an accident. A functional accident. He just nudged you inside, right?Surelyyou’ve experienced racier kisses.”
My head shakes. “Haven’t.”
“You’re…positive?”
I sure am. Because I have never been kissed before. Not once. “I don’t know how to explain it, Fawn. Have you ever been in a position where a guy has done something, and you’ve feltcompletely at their mercy? But not in a terrible or scary way, exactly. Just…like…for a fraction of a second you realize that they’reallman. And you’re a woman. And it’s terrible.”
“I cannot say I have ever been lucky enough, no.”
“Oh.”
Silence and streetlights lead us the rest of the way into our development. The engine settles before Fawn speaks again. “You don’t think you’ve developed a crush on him, do you?”
My head shoots out of the hidey hole of my legs. Heat floods to my face. “Absolutely not! He’s not my type. In any way.”
“What is your type?”
“Sweet.Happy. Someone who smiles and doesn’t make me feel like I’m doing things wrong all the time. You know, someone easy to read. Like you.”
She scoffs. “I’m not easy to read.”
“You speak your mind, and you’re very expressive. I need that kind of reassurance, and Mr. Anders isanythingbut. Also, because of how much he works out, I bet he’s allveiny. Ew.”
Fawn deadpans. “How dare you call me expressive. I am Wednesday Addams.”
“I can also tell when you’re joking. I don’t think Mr. Anders has ever made a joke in his life.”
Fawn’s eyes roll as she opens her door. “Please, the man dressed up as Batman for kids. That implies a sense of humor.”
“I’m still not convinced that wasn’t a body double, or an unfortunate mistake whereby he was saving the city and accidentally ended up in a hospital where he had to pretend he wasn’tactuallyBatman.” Unravelling, I step out into the chilly night and wrap myself in a hug. “I don’t even like him as a person, Fawn. I just…” What? I don’t know for sure. My emotions have always been a little finicky and secretive. Which is why I’ve spent my life saying the wrong things and defaulting to pleasant smiles or amicable façades to cover for them. “I thinkI feel small right now. Very small. Smaller than I normally do. A lot happened tonight that I wasn’t expecting, and a lot of new is going to happen in just a few weeks. I was not prepared to also be thrown into the sensation of losing grasp on how I feel in my body on top of it all.”
“That makes sense,” Fawn says, as though she actually understands what I’m trying to convey. Probably because she does. “We just need to get through the change and reach the new normal, okay? Also, you haven’t signed yet. So if it’s too much, you don’t have to.”
“I’d be an idiot not to.”
