Page 62 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

“How gracious of you,” she muttered, cheeks burning as Colin’s foot trailed up the back of her bare calf.

He smiled and—how was he so calm? How was he not practically vibrating out of his skin like she was? Did he even realize he was playing footsie with her? No one could possibly be that oblivious.

“See, I thought that might be the case. You not knowing or not knowing about not knowing,” he teased. “So, in addition to pizzle and buffalo wings, I’ve also been researching non-date dates.”

“Non-date dates,” she repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“Well, I like you, is the thing. And I enjoy spending time with you. I’d like to spend more time with you, and at some point, in the—hopefully—near future, I’d love nothing more than to take you on a date. A real one. But I also respect that right now, you’re not ready for that.” He raised his glass, his mouth pressed to the same side of the glass her lips had touched, and she had to fight a shiver at how close to being a facsimile of a kiss it was. How much she’d rather he press his mouth to hers directly instead. “But I’m not a quitter. So, I was thinking we could go on a few... test runs. Unconventional outings. No dinner and a movie, I promise. I won’t even bring you flowers.”

“A test run.” She couldn’t stop repeating what he’d said, but she felt like she should be afforded a little grace. He’d thrown a lot at her.

“Get you used to the idea. Or, if you wind up hating spending time with me, that can be that and I can at least say I tried.”

“You could end up hating spending time with me.”

“Doubtful.”

She shivered under the warmth of Colin’s gaze.

“Tell me about these non-date dates,” she said, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile, eager and painfully obvious. “I should know what I’m getting myself into before I actually agree to anything.”

“Okay, let’s see... Ikea.”

Her jaw dropped. “You want us to go to Ikea? The place that’s known for testing relationships?”

“Ah, ah, but that’s the brilliance of it. We aren’t in a relationship.” He grinned and she’d swear she could hear the unvoiced yet. “And I really need a new bookshelf.”

Against all odds, she was charmed. “You want to drag me on an errand. So you can buy yourself a bookshelf.”

“Could be fun.”

“So could sitting and watching paint dry.” With Colin, it just might.

“I’ll add it to list,” he joked.

“What else you got, McCrory? You want me to drive you to the dentist? Take you to get your tires rotated, maybe?”

“Bowling,” he said, leaning across the table. She held still, heart pounding and stomach dipping as Colin thumbed away a streak of sauce at the corner of her lip.

Telltale heat gathered between her thighs as he popped his finger in his mouth and sucked the sauce off.

“Bowling?” she echoed faintly, breathless. “I’m, um, I’m pretty sure bowling is a traditional date activity.”

“But what you don’t know is that I suck at bowling,” he said, nudging aside the plate of wings so he could rest his elbows on the table. “Planning an activity in which you suck doesn’t scream first date to me. Bonus, you’ll get to watch me make a fool of myself.”

“Sweeten the deal, why don’t you,” she teased, trying to regain her footing after finding herself on less than solid ground. “You’ve really put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

A lot of thought into her.

“Hyperfixation,” he joked, a delicate pink flush creeping up his throat. “Curling is another option. There’s nothing sexy about curling. Or we could take a hot yoga class together and work up a sweat in a decidedly platonic fashion.”

She could perfectly picture how the sweat would bead at his hairline and drip off his stubbled jawline, slide down his throat, gather in the shallow bowl formed by his collarbone. The same path she’d take with her mouth—if that was something she did. Something she allowed herself to do.

“Or boxing, maybe,” he continued, none the wiser to her sordid thoughts. “Do a little sparring of the nonverbal variety. Or, if you don’t feel like going out, we could always watch Netflix and—”

“What?” She snorted. “Chill?”

Colin threw his head back, his laugh coming from deep inside his chest, the sound sending another shiver down her spine. “Only in the literalist sense. I was honestly going to suggest we watch Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern. He travels the world eating regional foods that are generally perceived as gross. You know, like cow cod soup.” He smirked. “But good to know where your mind is at.”

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