Page 44 of Not Quite Perfect

I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to quiet the storm raging in my mind. Eventually— thankfully—Hank had had enough of Gwen’s monologue.

“We’re in public,” he bit out from between clenched teeth. “And you just met Victoria. Show some decorum, please.”

“It’s fine, Hank.” Victoria laughed easily as I fought to get my emotions in check. Then, steering the conversation from the scandalous to the scholarly, she added, “The thing most people don’t understand is that these books aren’t just about sex. I mean, yes, some of them are, but they can also be empowering for women. Some of my favorite authors tackle topics relating to social justice and societal prejudices, all while allowing readers to grow comfortable with their own sexuality. There are a number of intelligent authors writing gripping, thought-provoking stories. You should give ‘em a shot.”

Hank huffed out a frustrated breath. “You sound just like Miranda.”

Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes as she looked away. “Fucking Miranda.”

“Miranda?” Victoria popped another olive into her mouth and looked to Hank, whose face was slowly turning purple.

I jumped in to help him out. It was easier to talk about Miranda than to wonder if I’d gotten in over my head with Victoria.

“Professor Miranda Whitcomb. She teaches a course on the role of feminism in modern literature. She was the speaker at that first lecture I invited you to.” I looked at her meaningfully, feeling my pulse spike at the memory of our reunion.

“Hank’s also secretly in love with her,” Gwen sneered.

My best friend sighed and dropped his head into his palm, his elbow resting on the table. “For fuck’s sake, Gwen. We’ve been over this. I am not in love with Miranda. I can barely stand the woman.”

“Oh yeah? Then how come you talk about her non-stop? Just this morning you were—”

Victoria scooted her chair back and dropped her napkin onto the table. “I’m going to head to the bathroom,” she whispered, pointing over her shoulder before sliding from her seat and click-clacking her way across the restaurant.

I pushed back from the table as well to chase after her. I had so many questions that needed answers. Ones that I didn’t think could wait. I needed to know what I was dealing with here … what I might be up against.

Before she reached a door that opened onto the hallway where the restrooms were located, I grabbed hold of her elbow and spun her around. She opened her mouth in a startled gasp, but then quickly shut it when she saw it was me.

Her eyes warmed and she smiled. “Your friends are insane. What is their—”

I cut her off. I didn’t want to talk about Hank and Gwen. I wanted to find out the meaning behind her fondling my balls while listening to a story about two dudes fucking the same woman and then each other. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and ushered her into a curtained-off alcove. “Is that what gets you off?”

“Come again?” She looked at me with confusion in her eyes, her perfectly sculpted brows slanting down into a deep vee.

“That book with the two mobsters. Is that what you like?”

She stepped closer and peered up at me, studying my face for a couple of long, quiet seconds. Her expression went from confused, to worried, and then to something that looked like acceptance. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“Wait. What do you think I’m asking?”

She set her palm to my chest and continued staring up at me, her brows drawing even tighter.

Suddenly, I got the feeling we weren’t on the same page. At all.

I opened my mouth to explain when she let out a long sigh, her breath ghosting against my neck. She cocked her head toward the main part of restaurant. “Back there, when Gwen and I were discussing that book, you gripped my knee pretty tight and you looked like you were having trouble breathing. You were hard, too. And now you’ve chased after me, wanting to know if a book about two mobsters fucking gets me off.”

The longer she spoke, the looser my hold on her grew, until I slid my hands from her body and took a step back.

Holy shit. Realization dawned. We definitely were not on the same page.

She thought I was into other guys.

At the same moment my realization took root, Victoria rushed to assure me there wasn’t anything wrong with having homosexual fantasies. “It’s perfectly natural. I mean, I thought you—”

I raised my hand to put a stop to her babbling, doing everything in my power not to laugh from a mixture of hysteria and relief. “Victoria, stop.”

“Sorry,” she squeaked. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just so there’s no further misunderstanding, I’m not bi.”

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