Page 70 of Accidentally Amy

“Sure,” he said. He cleared his throat, and then he added, “I also have some other flowers that the florist talked me into. I, ah, I don’t think they’re really a thing for a dinner date, but she was kind of bossy and insisted you’d want them so I…”

And he just trailed off.

That made me stop in the kitchen doorway. I turned around, and Blake was still standing just inside the door, holding a…wrist corsage?

“Is that for me?” I asked.

He looked embarrassed and gave a little half shrug. “Yeah, but it’s totally fine if you don’t want it. The lady—”

“Oh, I want it.” I rushed back to him and looked down at the pretty yellow and white roses. I hadn’t gone to any formal dances in high school but had always wanted a corsage. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” He looked down at me with wrinkled eyebrows. “Are you messing with me?”

“No,” I said, getting a little sidetracked by the curl of his black eyelashes. “I love it.”

“Well, let me put it on, then,” he said, his eyes on mine as he lifted my wrist with his free hand and attempted to slide on the corsage. But the elastic band got hung up on my ring, and then again on my pinkie finger.

I looked down and saw the tiniest shake in his hand.

“Are you…nervous?” I asked, unable to believe it as I looked up at his face.

“No,” he said dismissively, and immediately followed it up with, “Actually yes. Fuck.”

That made me smile through my nerves. “Me, too.”

“It just feels important,” he said, looking down and straightening the flowers on my wrist. “Tonight, that is.”

I nodded. “Weird, right?”

He returned his gaze to my face. “Very.”

“But that’s dumb,” I said, my anxiety taking over. “Because it’s not.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” I said, rubbing my lips together. “You’re just feeding me so I don’t bite your arm off, and I just happened to wear makeup and a proper bra for the occasion. No bigs.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Proper bra?”

“An undergarment,” I explained, shifting my weight to one foot as my big mouth took over. “With wires inside of it to push the ladies up and make them more appealing to the male gaze.”

He looked like he wanted to smile. “And you don’t usually, um—”

“Yeah, no.” I waved a hand and said, “I don’t have a lot to work with upstairs, so I’m all about comfort. Sports bras and bralettes are my jam.”

Shut up, you idiot!I always rambled when I was nervous, but this was perhaps my first overshare of which foundation garments were my fucking jam.

Blake cleared his throat. “I see.”

“Oh, God, did I just ruin the illusion?” Why was my mouth so vomitous all the time? I said, “Was my admission akin to a man opening a date by sharing the details of his micro-penis? Should we just call it a night now, before you have to spend money on dinner when you know you don’t want micro-peen?”

“For fuck’s sake, Iz,” he said, half smiling with a confused crease in his eyebrows.

“Oh, my God, I did!”

“I don’t give a shit about your micro-penis, okay?” He grabbed the front of my cardigan with both hands and pulled me closer, frustration and amusement shining in his brown eyes. “I spend hours every day obsessing about all of you, every little bit.”

“You do?” I said, my voice barely there.

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