“I already know what it says.” He loads up a nacho and one-bites it.
“So are you gonna call her?”See, Tessa? I can prove I’m not interested.
He shrugs.
“What, does she not like queso?”
He smiles faintly. “She has to be my best friend. She wasn’t a best-friend type.”
“How would you know that from talking to her for five minutes?”
“It only took you two minutes to know everything there was to know about me.”
I groan. “Let it go, already. Geez.”
He chuckles as he tips his head back to swig his beer.
“You know, you’re awfully picky,” I point out, selecting an extra-cheesy nacho. “You sure this perfect match exists?”
“Oh, she exists.” His smile looks a little forced.
“How can you be so sure?”
“The perfect girl for me is out there, trust me. Compatibility isn’t an exact science.”
“Iscompatiblecode forsubmissive? You want some hood ornament who agrees with everything you say?Snooze.”
“That’s pretty rich coming from someone who refuses to date outside their political party.”
That raises my hackles. “I don’t seeyoudating across the aisle.”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say no. Opposites attract and all that.”
“You don’t really want someone who’s your opposite,” I scoff.
“Says who?”
“Says...life. You’d spend all your time arguing. That’s not a recipe for a healthy relationship.”
“Depends on the type of relationship,” he mutters. He’s concentrating very hard on his plate of chicken wings.
“What does that mean?”
His eyes flick up to mine, then back down to his plate. “Never mind.”
“Nonever mind. What did you mean?”
He blows out a breath before looking up at me again. “Sex, Katie Cat. Dating your opposite would make for some amazing sex. Arguing as foreplay. Fighting, then making up. Wanting to kill each other, then rip each other’s clothes off.” His eyes spark. “Don’t you agree?”
This conversation just veeredwayoff course. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.” Although I am now.Jesus.
It plays out in my mind like an old Hollywood movie. It’s black-and-white and I’m backlit beautifully. Ben and I are yelling at each other and I slap him across the face. He throws me over his shoulder and I beat his back while he carries me into a room and throws me down on a fancy four-poster bed. He pins my arms above my head while I thrash and fight, and then he begins to ravage me.
Ben reads me like a book. He crosses his arms over his chest, a slow, wicked grin stretching across his face. I don’t like this smile. It’s suggestive and indecent and a bunch of other things it shouldn’t be.
“You ever been with someone who’s given you a run for your money, Kate?” Something in his tone makes me want to stand up and run.
“Hate sex isn’t my style.” My voice wobbles a little on the wordsex. I look longingly at the door. I could make a break for it.
