“That was probably a bad idea,” Kirby said.
Mara’s expression went through about three emotions, all too fast for Kirby to get an accurate read. “The kiss or the…?”
Kirby was surprised Mara wasn’t running away as fast as possible. One of them needed to pump the brakes. Mara was the responsible one, no doubt, but Kirby wasn’t delusional. This was not a good idea, and at any second, Mara was going to turn back into a block of ice.
“I think both.”
“Yeah.” Mara stared over Kirby’s shoulder. “I would have liked to have, you know.”
“No. What would you have liked to do, Mara?”
Mara sighed and zipped up her bra. “Reciprocate.”
Kirby almost reached over to drag that zipper right back down. She had been trying to be respectful and not a complete horndog as Mara came down from the personality transplant that had allowed her to let loose a little bit. But now that those beautiful breasts were hidden again, Kirby was ready to throw a fit.
And that one word—reciprocate—was so brave. Kirby had danced, strategized, cooked, and dated on TV for money. She had raced and taken tactical risks while skiing.
But she was never brave when it mattered. Mara’s courage touched Kirby, made everything realign in her mind about what had just gone down.
“Next time?” Kirby said. Throwing out a line, seeing if Mara would bite.
It was a terrible, terrible, brilliantly terrible idea. And Kirby would do it every fucking day if it meant she got to see a daring Mara again. They simply had to keep their emotions out of it.
Easy for Mara the ice princess. Maybe not so easy for Kirby, who ran hot and fast and reckless.
Mara rolled her head loosely against the wall, which might have been anoor awhat the fuck have I done?
But she didn’t respond. That was common, Kirby realized. For Mara to not answer questions when the questions were hard.
Mara closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. “When was the last timeyoufelt joyful?”
Kirby blinked, her mind spinning, and let herself look her fill at Mara while her eyes were shut. She’d asked Mara that days ago. Mara had seemed so stunned by the question. Like it had hurt her.
Kirby almost saidwhen you let me kiss you.But that was much, much too vulnerable. And today, Mara was the brave one. Not Kirby.
“I don’t know. Last time I went dancing maybe.” She had line-danced at a queer cowboy club in LA a few months ago. It had been a blast. So uncomplicated and jubilant.
Mara wrinkled her nose and opened her eyes.
“You don’t dance?” Kirby asked.
“Of course not,” she said like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “I think winning is the closest I get to joy.”
That was a very Mara response, but it was also sad.
“What about when I made you come on my fingers?” Kirby asked, trying so hard to be brave, but mixing it all up in dirty talk. “Did that spark some joy, Mara May?”
Red exploded over Mara’s cheeks, and she put a hand to her forehead. After several long seconds, she said, “I don’t feel like myself right now.”
“Gotcha.”Ouch.
“I shouldn’t have liked that.”
“Hey, there’s noshouldn’t havehere. We’re adults. We’re both single.” Kirby’s stomach dropped. God, she hoped Mara was single. “Right?”
“Sure.” Mara moved her hand away from her face and looked at Kirby with a resolve that reminded Kirby of Mara’s game face before a race. “I can’t do that again.”
Fair. That was fair. Just because Kirby’s brain was reeling with possibilities and reciprocity and regrets and excitement and plans didn’t mean Mara’s was. Kirby felt all the things, but it wasn’t fair to expect Mara to feel anything at all.
