I knew she was goading me. “I’ll make sure it stays in the spare bedroom,” I said. “Then they won’t ask any awkward questions.”
I expected a sarcastic reply but instead got silence.
“Why aren’t you dating?” I said, filling the void with the subject I needed to learn about.
“Honestly? I keep picking idiots. Men who mess me around or I think we’re getting serious and it turns out they’re on a completely different page to me. I had two boyfriends that were kind of long term and both of them ended up being idiots. Since then, I’ve just had casual relationships but I’m not even very good at that.” She sounded wistful.
I stopped walking, jerking her towards me and wrapped my arms around her. We were blocking the pavement but I didn’t care. “Those two men who hurt you—they were dicks for not realising what they had but that’s a good thing because you’re not stuck with them. You can do better.”Like me.
She pressed her forehead into my chest, her small hands in my stomach, fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt. This wasn’t friends. We couldn’t be just friends. I’d pretend for as long as it took for her to see that, but this, the way we fit together, the way she felt in my arms, was sex and love and Sunday mornings in bed and Monday evenings on the couch. It was longevity and friendship and a good hard fuck followed by a long slow afternoon of making love.
“With who? I’m high maintenance. I stress and work all hours. I fuss people and make demands and have this wacky full-on family who I love. I’m messy and I have habits.”
“Like what?”
“Like eating pastries in bed and drinking coffee, too much coffee. And books. Too many books.”
“There’s no such things as too much coffee and too many books. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.” My hands ran up and down her back, soothing. “And what you’ve just listed is what makes you who you are.”
“One of my exes told me I was too much. That he could never relax around me.”
“Then that was his problem, not yours. I’ve been relaxed around you all day.”
“The other told me I worked too much and spent too much time with my family, so he couldn’t imagine a future together.”
“Clearly you weren’t that into him because you would’ve made more time for him and wanted him more involved with your family.”
“You’re not going to let me win this debate, are you?”
“What debate?”
She laughed, the sound vibrating through me. “I think you’re the perfect man.”
I turned around, keeping one hand on the small of her back.
“You have no reply to that?”
“No,” I said. “My reply would’ve been to kiss you and that wouldn’t have been friend-like.”
“I’ve kissed you. Maybe you’re allowed one pass.”
* * *
We got to my apartment without me saying or doing anything that would’ve caused my balls to be any bluer than they already were. I was pretty sure the colour of them matched her dress. Heading straight to the fridge I tried not to look at her; my resolve as thin as ice on a puddle. “Have a bottle of water for the night,” I said, passing one to her.
She accepted it and put it straight down on the table. “Owen,” she said, now a foot shorter than me in her bare feet. “I’ve had such a great day.”
Her eyes were wide and contained a pool of emotion that I couldn’t untangle enough to decipher. “Me too,” I said. “I’m going to get it in the neck from my mother tomorrow though.”
She shrugged, stepping closer. “You probably deserve it, although I’m glad we went to that restaurant. It was amazing. And entertaining. Although you were quite growly.”
“There was the idiot my mother was with and some tosser who couldn’t take his eyes off you. I’m sorry if I was growly.”
Her smile lit the room. “Growly suits you sometimes.”
Then she was in front of me, close enough to touch. “Do you want me to kiss you?” I said, needing her to have the power.
“Yes,” she said, almost too quietly to hear. “Just a kiss. That would make it the most perfect day ever.”
