He slips his hand back into mine as we move aside to wait for our order, leaving me buzzing with anticipation for whatever lesson comes next.
Just A Kiss (For Research)
“Ididn’t peg you as the rom-com type,” Birdie muses.
She studies me from her place beside me in the truck bed, propped up by several pillows and wrapped in a throw blanket.
The audio fromWhen Harry Met Sally,playing on the big screen ahead of us, comes through the speaker I set up in the truck bed.
“I usually stick to explosions, car chases, and the occasional western showdown, but I figuredDie HardandTombstoneweren’t first date material,” I reply with a chuckle.
Birdie’s eyes dance with amusement. “Drat, I was really looking forward to gunfights and a heroic rescue scene. This is such a downgrade.”
The scene where Harry and Sally debate whether men and women can just be friends is playing out. I almost laugh at the irony—here I am with the girl I’ve been pining over for years, pretending to be her boyfriend so she can build her confidence to date other people.
“Harry is being so dramatic,” Birdie observes, keeping her voice low. “Men and women can absolutely be friends—just look at us.”
Fuck me. How the hell am I supposed to answer?
You’re wrong, Birdie, baby. I’ve wanted you since the first time we had lunch together alone in your dad’s office. You wore a blue floral dress that matched your eyes, and when you reached for a napkin and your fingers brushed mine, the spark from that small touch hit me like lightning.
“In case all those Red Vines put you in a sugar coma, let me remind you that what I plan to teach you isn’t the kind of thing friends do,” I tease.
Birdie lets out a burst of giggles, earning a sharp “shush” from the elderly couple two parking spots over. They got here shortly before the movie started and haven’t been willing to tolerate any interruptions.
“Sorry!” Birdie whisper-shouts in return, flinching when she realizes how loud she’d been.
Damn, she’s ridiculously cute when she’s self-conscious about drawing attention to herself.
Unable to resist keeping my distance a second longer, I scoot closer and drape my arm around her shoulders.
She peeks over at me with a questioning look. “What are you doing?”
“This way we won’t get any more noise complaints,” I whisper, my mouth against her ear.
That’s not the only reason.
Okay, fine. It’s also a convenient excuse to have her close. I’ve held back since our concession run, craving the rush that ignites through my veins when we touch. The memory of her on her toes and my hand gripping her waist has left me powerless to resist her.
With all the damn foreplay, I’ll probably have a permanent hard-on until I get that first taste of her mouth on mine. Hell, who am I kidding? The damn thing isn’t going to be appeased until I have it buried inside her, and even then, it won’t be placated for long if being inside her isn’t a regular occurrence.
I’m glad Birdie is starting to loosen up compared to how tense she was when I picked her up at the feed store. We’ve been around each other so much in the past, I assumed we’d slip into our usual rhythm: me teasing her followed by her quirky comebacks, and the occasional playful jab. This time though, we don’t have her friends or my family around to break the tension, leaving the two of us with all this unspoken anticipation hanging in the air.
I trail my thumb lightly over her skin. “You’re tense. Want me to move back to my side of the mattress?”
She gives a small shake of her head. “No… I’m just too scared to move.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m having a great time and don’t want to risk elbowing you in the face or accidentally headbutting you and ruining our date… sorry—fake date.” Her voice drops so low I barely catch the last part.
I grimace at her calling this fake. The warmth of her body pressed against mine is as real as the blood pounding in my veins, and I wonder if she can feel this connection too.
Birdie has spent far too long doubting herself, and it’s up to me to show her that she’s perfect the way she is—quirks and all.She just needs to get out of her head long enough to see herself the way I do: fierce, brave, and beautiful.
“Funny—at the bar the other night you seemed pretty confident when you were asking me to give you lessons, and earlier in the concessions line, you didn’t hold back, did you?” I taunt playfully, my lips twitching into a grin.
She traces her fingers over the gold chain of her necklace. “I’d had a few drinks at the bar so that doesn’t count. “
