CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
Finn held my hand up above where his head lay on his pillow. He played with each of my fingers. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Sky blue,” I whispered.
Our feet twined together under the covers.
We were bare under the sheet, but there was no fooling around this evening. Tonight was just for us.
“Why sky blue?”
“Because it matches my eyes.”
He snorted. “Now who’s proud?”
I shrugged, our shoulders rubbing together.
He questioned, “What was the name of the first boy you kissed?”
“I actually kissed a girl first.”
His gaze flicked from my fingers to my face. “I didn’t know that about you.” His gaze held interest—of the sexual sort.
“Not like that. I’m straight,” I clarified. “But I was five and had just witnessed my parents kissing. And not the little love pecks they give one another in public. I was curious, so I kissed my best friend, Milly. When I stuck my tongue in her mouth, like my parents had done to one another, she screamed and ran away.”
Finn snorted. “I’d like to see baby pictures of you. I bet you were adorable.”
“Mother has plenty,” I assured him.
He turned his attention back to my fingers and continued playing with them. “What’s your favorite number?”
“Eleven.”
“Why?”
“It looks pretty when you write it.”
“Hairy or smooth chests on men?”
“Smooth.”
He didn’t ask me why since his chest is nice and smooth.
“Favorite season?”
“Spring.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I feel hopeful during that time of year when everything is beginning to bud.”
He nodded his head in agreement. “Favorite drink?”
“Alcoholic or non-alcoholic?”
“Both.”
“Vodka. Raspberry tea.”
