Page 44 of Audiophile

My laugh is watery. “People don’t get naked and stay friends.”

“Why not?” he asks. “We could visit LA together—simply for the food—and regain some of your independence.”

God, I miss my independence the most. “LA has such good street food.”

“That’s why I said it. It’s going to be okay, Petronia.” His thumb traces the length of my jaw. “Just saying, we could avoid the be-all, end-all goodbye.”

I scrounge a smile, pushing away the waterworks. “We’ll see.”

“Do you want to end the game?” The concern on his face is bittersweet.

Truth is, Ienjoythis game. I crave Reed’s hands on me and the way he makes me blush. I was a dead plant until he gave me some water and tugged me toward the sunlight. But I can’t find the right words. I shake my head.

He presses a soft kiss to my jaw and draws back. It blurs the lines between the intimacy of last night and the space between us this morning. “Me either,” he says. A confession. “Okay. My day. Are you hungry?”

I shrug, wiping my face to make sure no tears leaked out. “I had coffee cake.”

“Yeah, and? Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” he says with a laugh. “Let’s go to breakfast.”

At Imelda’s Diner, the post-church crowd watches us over their plates.That’s Diamante’s girl, I imagine them muttering. Tom will be so disappointed.No one says anything, though Big Billy’s overlarge, white mustache twitches when he glances our way.

“Petra, you alright?” Reed asks.

I dig deep for conviction. I don’t want the town, or my own doubt, to ruin this for me. I’m not comfortable going against the grain. Except for my move to LA, every choice I’ve made in life was to appease the people closest to me.

But Reed is mine. My choice. My joy. Screw the fallout. People already know, so I might as well make the most of it. I nudge his foot with mine, eliciting a smile and a nudge in response.

“Cheeky woman. I’m caught between the Swift Omelet and the Marionberry French Toast.”

“Get both and split?”

“You’re reading my mind,” Reed says, and my chest grows warm and fuzzy.

He’s not staying. Enjoy this for what it’s worth, and that’s it,I remind myself. And with Reed’s help, I avoid overthinking. When we talk, awkward pauses are laugh-worthy, jokes have the best punchlines, and anything too somber is quickly brightened. And then, of course, there’s all the sex talk.

“Porn?” Reed asks, very matter of fact.

I glance at Big Billy, cheeks hot. “Jesus, Reed, could you keep it down?”

“Sorry.” Reed leans forward, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically as he whispers, “Porn?”

I roll my eyes at his complete lack of subtlety. “Before the audios, yes. Now…not so much.”

Reed’s chest puffs like a proud rooster. “Doesn’t do it for you anymore?”

“Get over yourself!” I laugh.

“You never told me which scene is your favorite.”

I have many, all which fill a different need. I can’t go with one of the boyfriend-style ones, because the last thing I want is for Reed to assume I expect more. His most ridiculous comes to mind. “Santa’s Big Present.”

Reed’s mouth drops open. “Seriously? I—you—” It’s the first time Reed flounders, and my giggles roll out of me as I slump down in my seat. “Extra Cheeky!”

“Aren’t you proud of all your episodes?”

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