Page 69 of Accidentally Amy

“So what’s the least cool thing you found, then?”

“Aside from the buttload of chia?”

“How much chia constitutes a buttload, Shay?”

“Count the ones in your pantry and that’s the answer, Phillips.”

“Least cool thing. Go.”

“Okay, the thing I found troubling in your apartment was the geriatric sex book.”

He coughed out, “Excuse me?”

I grinned at his horror. “There’s a book in your hall closet that looks like it came out in the 1950s, and it’s calledDelicious Sex. I mean, I’m all for honing your craft and reading all the resources, but I don’t think—”

“Holy shit—was it on the bottom of the closet, in that stack of books on the floor?” he asked, pressing his fingers to his temples.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, God. Those books belong to my grandparents.” He squinted at me, looking queasy. “There’s seriously a sex book in that stack?”

I started laughing. I’d been about to accuse him of lying, but he looked far too disgusted for me not to believe him. I said, “Not just a book about sex, but a book about delicious se—”

“Stop it.” He shook his head and pointed at me. “Your snooping has ruined Nana and Papa for me, you little shit.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go now,” I said around a laugh. “See you at six?”

His mock rage slid into a soft smile. “See you at six.”

•••

Blake:I can see you peeking through the blinds.

I smiled as I watched him walk up to the stoop, lookingdown at his phone. Stepping away from the window, I texted back:I was watching two squirrels get married, egomaniac.

Blake:Sure you were. Open the goddamn door.

I took a deep breath, ridiculously nervous. Just hours earlier, I’d been nervous to see him because I’d been embarrassed about kissing him. Now I was nervous because we were going on an actual date and would likely be doing even more kissing by the end of the night. I was tied up in anticipation and excitement and terror, because something about the night felt big.

I slid the phone into the pocket of my tweed skirt (a cute new skirt that perfectly matched my white ruffly pirate shirt with an open cardigan), crossed the living room, and pulled open the front door.

Blake stood there, looking beautiful, which was nothing new. Perfectly combed hair, knee-weakening cologne, and a V-neck sweater / button-down shirt combo that showcased the hell out of that mile-wide chest and spectacular pecs; the man could serve a look.

But those things were nothing—nothing—compared to the way he was looking at me. He looked the way I felt, like he was filled with anticipation and intensity, and that was enough to make me want to faint.

Especially when he was holding a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils.

And smelling like something I wanted to bite.

“Hi,” I said, feeling breathless and incapable of words.

He smiled and held out the flowers. “Hi.”

“I love daffodils. Did you know that?” I tried remembering if I’d ever told him that as I took them from him. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice a little quieter than usual. “But you’re welcome. My mother always said that daffodils are like two flowers in one, so, uh, that’s why I chose them, I guess.”

I nodded. “Let me just put them in water,” I said, walking away from him and trying to find calm as I headed for the kitchen. “And then we can go.”

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