That brings us back to the fire, because recent trauma is our small talk. His impression of me with the chainsaw earns a cheap laugh. Then a real one when I hit back with his frozen-map navigation skills and the heroic way he almost let creek water ruin everything.
It’s all we have in common, and still, annoyingly, enjoyable enough for a date with the guy I survived with. I just don’t know where we go next. When our laughter quiets as we finally clear the bridge, I brace for the awkward stretch of car ride before some stiff five-course meal.
I glance over, worried he’s realizing the same thing, but Ash is still smiling.
“We’re lucky we get to put rose-colored glasses on all that,” he says, which is something I hadn’t let myself think about yet. “I mean, how many people had their lives made worse by the same thing that made ours…” He swallows, eyes flicking to me and back to the road. “Mine, at least. I’m just glad you’re here.”
Okay. That is not helping with the fluttering.
The lime-green rental car. That outfit. His nerves. The unfiltered honesty. From anyone else, it might be brutal to watch. On the two-million-dollar man, it only makes me realize I’m treating this like a test when he’s treating it like something worth trying. Even if this isn’t the person I’ll spend the rest of mylife with—because let’s be real—I can at least spend tonight with someone who could be a friend.
Maybe.
With benefits.
The realization slips out as I have it.
“I’m glad I’m here too,” I say. “And I have to revoke my earlier jab at your talking rule. I think maybe it was a good idea.”
He reaches over like he’s going to squeeze my leg, then stops an inch above my thigh. A quiet laugh escapes him as he pulls back, remembering his own ridiculous rule. His dick has been in my mouth and my hand, and somehow the heat of him moving away without touching me feels like the most intimate thing we’ve done.
“So… what other rules do you have?”
He exhales through his nose, like I’m poking fun.
“I’m serious. This one seems smart, and you seem to have your life together, so?”
“I track my workouts in a spreadsheet,” he says.
“Knowing you, I can only imagine.”
“I never use credit cards.”
“That’s probably smart.”
“Whenever I’m on my computer for longer than twenty minutes, I try to look at an object twenty feet away for twenty seconds.”
“Okay. That’s borderline.”
“Are you enjoying this?” he asks.
“Kind of. I mean, none of that’s repulsing me, which I’ll admit is confusing. I think it’s your arms.”
He gives a casual flex, and all his layers somehow only make what’s underneath more enticing. Ash grins wider, while I become the car’s complementary color, and ball my fists to keep from automatically adjusting what’s happening in my lap.
“Your rule,” I say.
He looks back at the road and turns us onto some Oakland exit that holds our surprise date.
“I made another rule for tonight, actually,” he says. “Though this one’s just for me. I told myself I was going to be honest. So, yeah, I’m kind of embarrassed by what I just said, but if it had repulsed you, that would have meant something.”
And the fact that I’m still here means…?
“Well, I’m happy to report that you’re not repulsive,” I say, attempting to steer us back to lighter territory with a joke instead of matching his honesty.
He quickly adjusts himself, exactly like I’ve been trying not to do, and I’m suddenly anxious again for entirely different reasons from before I got in his car. Ash isn’t repulsive. He might be kind of… catastrophically sincere.
Thankfully, the glow radiating from my face can still be blamed on the flexing.
