Page 6 of Flexible Standards

“Fuck,” I breathe, then stammer to correct myself, “I, uh, I mean…”

Isla looks down, pulling the shirt out to the sides as if to ensure nothing is amiss. “That bad? Should’ve stuck with the dress.” A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as she lifts her gaze to me.

I rub my hand over my face to ensure I’m not about to wake up from this dream. “No, absolutely not.” She’s fucking stunning, and I’m still in shock that she’s actually here, though I’m scared to admit it aloud and risk her disappearing from existence.

She adjusts her glasses and returns to my bookcase, scanning the shelves. “I know better than to ask what your favourite book is, but what about the top five in your collection?”

“I still couldn’t narrow that down. Maybe by category? There are too many amazing books I’ve read to ever choose only five. It also depends on my mood.” I join her at the bookcase as her fingers brush the spines. “See any you’ve read?”

“A few. What would you recommend I read tonight?”

“Don’t you have a limousine scene to return to?” I tease, unable to hide my smile.

Her eyes light up, and she rushes to her bag. “Shit, I almost forgot!” Pulling out the ereader, she turns it on and taps it a few times. “Mind if I…?”

“Why would I?” I laugh. “Make yourself comfortable.” Pulling out a soft blanket from the linen closet, I set it next to her. “Water, tea, or gin?”

She thinks for a moment, chewing on her lip. “Surprise me.” Her eyes widen. “Wait, no. What am I doing? Sealed bottled water, please.”

I offer my hand. “Come on.” She takes it, and I lead her into the kitchen. “What do you really want?”

“You… I, uh… I mean, you’re a gracious host. I’ll just have water.”

I know I didn’t imagine it; I fucking heard it. She said, “you.” I’m used to women throwing themselves at me while I’m performing, but there’s no connection, let alone things in common with them. No one I’ve wanted as much as her. Isla? She’s fucking stunning and appears to read as much as I do. Could she actually want to be with me? Not just because of a performance? I can’t rush this, or I might risk losing my shot with her.

“Tea or gin?”

“Honestly, I’d love another gin and tonic, if you have everything on hand.”

I pull out a bottle of gin from the cupboard and two small cans of tonic from the fridge. I set them in front of Isla and retrieve two glasses, filling them with ice. “Lime?”

“Sure.” She smothers a smile and asks, “What’s the catch?”

“Catch?” I pour gin into both glasses. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“You. What’s the catch?”

Cracking open the cans, I fill the glasses. “The catch for what?”

She takes a lime out of the fruit basket and hands it to me. “Never mind.”

“No, what?” I pull out a knife and slice two wedges, squeezing them into the drinks. She doesn’t answer, so I change the subject. “You’re a smart woman to not accept a drink from a stranger.” I raise my glass and take a few long drinks from it.

She lifts hers in a toast, takes a sip, and teases, “Guess both of us are getting drugged tonight.”

I nearly spit out the gin. “I suppose my plan has been foiled, as your friend suggested.” Setting down my drink, I add, “I’m going to grab my ereader from the bedroom. Go sit and relax, I’ll be back in a minute.”

As I step around her, she grabs my hand and sighs. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know what’s happening here. I don’t go home with random men, especially ones like you.”

“Ones like me?”

“Yeah,” she laughs nervously, “ones like you.”

“Am I being friend-zoned already?”

“Do you want to be friend-zoned?”

Her eyebrow lifts, and I stifle a laugh. Squeezing her hand, I reply, “In no world would I ever want to be only friends with you.”

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