“Answer the question.”
“Who cares?” I tell her honestly. “I mean, they wouldn’t reallyhave a leg to stand on. Not since they’ve been boinking for the better part of a year.”
“Don’t ever say ‘boinking’ again.”
“So I can’t tell you how much I wish we could go home and boink?”
“Not if you ever want to do it.”
I grab hold of the chains on either side of her, halting her swaying as I lean in closer. “Well, I would very much like to, so I suppose I’ll give you this one.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath, and then a clearing of her throat.
“You don’t regret it, do you?” I ask, feeling suddenly unsure.
She shakes her head. “Weirdly? No. I don’t.”
“Why weirdly?”
“Because…I guess…I’ve always had this idea of you in my head.”
“Herculean lover with a sparkling personality?”
“Vapid fuckboy, actually,” she corrects.
I press my hand over my heart. “Ouch.”
“But,” she adds, “you’ve really been proving me wrong lately. I…I’m actually sorry that I misjudged you so much.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I mean, no one can really blame you for thinking that.”
“Yes, they can,” she says, turning in the seat to look up at me. “You’re a lot more than that, and if I’d spent even a second trying to get to know you rather than constantly talking down to you…I might have seen that sooner.”
I feel a fluttering in my chest at the sincerity in her eyes and in her voice, swallowing thickly as sudden embarrassment heats my cheeks.
“Yeah, well…” I rub at the back of my neck. “It’s sort of what I project, anyway.”
“Whydoyou do that?”
“I guess…” I look down at my feet. “It’s just easier. If everyone thinks you’re just the ‘fun’ guy…they don’t ever expect anything more from you.”
“Why would it be so bad if someone expected more from you?”
“Because,” I huff, feeling a little flayed open. “Then I can’t ever let anyone down.”
“Jack…”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say quickly.
She reaches up to press her fingers to my jaw, her thumb stroking my cheek. “It’s a big deal to me. I…I like seeing this side of you.”
“The sappy, pathetic side?”
“Therealyou,” she corrects, staring up at me.
And suddenly it hurts not to have her mouth on mine—like my body is drawn to hers, like polar ends of a magnet. I can feel myself leaning in even as her hand tugs at my face, and then my lips are moving against hers, my lashes fluttering closed as she kisses me softly in the dying sunlight underneath a canopy of trees.
“I really like doing that,” I tell her.
