“Sure.”
“Why’d you give me a lollipop?”
“Because it was a bribe to make sure you all took part in filming. Sweets usually work.”
“Okay, yeah, they would. What about?—”
I smiled and held up a hand, slightly testing the water to see what would happen. “No, you’ve asked a question. Now it’s my turn.”
Danny frowned. “But?—”
“You can ask me another once you’ve answered mine.”
“Fine.”
“Why did youreallyfollow me on Instagram? I don’t believe it was about the drinks. That was simply an easy way in.”
He pouted and frowned, folding his arms defensively across his chest. Oh, he really was cute when he threw a strop. I’d have so much fun with him if he did that regularly. “If you didn’t want me to follow you, you could’ve ignored it. You didn’t have to message me.”
“Don’t get defensive. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just curious,” I said. “Would it help if I told you I liked seeing that notification?”
Danny’s chin tilted in a barely perceptible nod. “I wanted to know… were you flirting with me? In the bar. And in the messages too. And today. ’Cos I have no idea and I’m gettingso fucking in my head about it!” He waved his hands agitatedly, raising his voice as he continued. “And don’t ask me anything like, ‘Did you want me to be.’ I want you to tell me the truth: were you flirting with me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Obviously not! That’s why I’m fucking asking!”
“Like I told you this morning, you’re cute, Danny.” I stood up and moved a little closer towards him, noticing that I was a couple of inches taller, although his mullet did add a couple of inches. He looked up at me with stormy eyes and I hated how much I loved them. I shouldn’t have been thinking about how pretty they’d look all wet with overstimulated tears.
“Cute, like?”
“Cute like cute,” I said. “Attractive. Sexy. Handsome. All of which you know. I’ve seen the way you behave. You know how good-looking you are. I just don’t think you were expecting someone like me to notice.”
“Like who?”
“A man. And an older one at that.” I sighed and stepped back. “I’m too old for you, Danny.”
“Fuck off, you’re not old.”
I chuckled. “I’m thirty-eight.”
“Okay, you’re a bit old.”
“Thank you. How generous,” I said sarcastically.
“I mean, it’s not bad,” he said quickly. “You’re hot. Er, I mean… shit. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not?”
“I dunno. I’m not… I’m not supposed to like men?” It was definitely a question and asked with that adorable head tilt. How could I resist?
I couldn’t. That was the fucking problem.
“Aren’t you? Who said that?”
