To date me...
“You know, Kelsey, a simplethank youwould be just fine.” With protein bar in hand, I consider going back to my room to eat but, hell, she smells good, and I’m a glutton for punishment. So I take a seat at the dining room table where I’ve already set up a place setting for her.
I hear her move around the kitchen, grab her breakfast, and when she turns to sit at the table with me, she notices the placemat. Once again, those hazel eyes of hers flash to mine.
Before she can question me, I say, “I was bored this morning.”
Nervously, she takes a seat and sets down her plate. After she fixes her napkin on her lap, she glances up at me and says, “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Sure,” I answer and kick my feet up on the chair next to me. I can feel her eyes still on me when I’m opening my protein bar. When I finally look up, I ask, “Can I help you?”
“I’m just confused, is all. It seemed like you were mad at me last night and now you made me breakfast... I don’t know how to process this.”
“I wasn’t mad at you last night.”
“You threatened me.”
“Jesus Christ.” I roll my eyes. “That wasn’t a threat, more like... a warning.”
“So, you warned me last night. And if that’s the case, then maybe I should warn you.”
This should be good.
“Okay, what do you need to warn me about?”
“Well... you shouldn’t be walking around without a shirt on.”
“Uh-huh,” I drag out. “And what’s going to happen to me if I do?”
She stabs a forkful of eggs. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do, actually. I really want to know.”
“Fine.” She shrugs. “If you walk around without a shirt on, I will too.”
A loud laugh escapes me. “And you consider that a punishment?” I glance down at my bare chest and back at her. “My shirt is off now, so please, Kelsey, go ahead and punish me. Strip out of that starchy blouse of yours. Show me the good stuff.”
“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “Why are you so insufferable? I’m just trying to make things comfortable for us, but you’re either angry, teasing me, or... well... you know.”
“I don’t know. Please finish that sentence.”
She pins me with a glare. “You’re... well, touching me intimately.”
“That was barely touching you last night. And correct me if I’m wrong, but you seemed to like it... a lot.”
“I was faking it.”
That makes me nearly spit out my coffee. “Babe, I tasted you off your finger last night. You can’t fake that.”
“Don’t call mebabe.” She scoops up some beans. “Can we just be friends?”
“What did I tell you about workplace friendships?”
“That was some load of bullshit. I’m friends with Huxley and Breaker. So don’t tell me I can’t be friends with you. You just don’t want to be friend-zoned because you want in my pants.”
I smirk at that. “I do want in your pants.”
Her eyes flash to mine as her cheeks blush. Flustered, she says, “Well, that’s not an option for you. So, why don’t we just put that behind us and move on? We can be friends. It’s simple. We just need to do friendly type of things.”
