Page 24 of Falling

“What’s the first thing you notice when you walk into his bedroom?” That one takes me a moment. “Have I ever been in your bedroom?”

“You slept in my bedroom at my parents’ house,” he points out.

“Yeah, but that was your childhood bedroom. It smelled like Axe body spray and teenage frustration.” He laughs, which makes me smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever snooped around your adult bedroom. Stop. Go back and set it back up so I can see what it smells like.”

“It smells very nice, trust me. I’ve moved on to Polo.”

“Hmmm. I’ll just have to take your word for it. Remind me to smell your bedroom when we get to Austin.”

“Noted.”

“Oooh, is he a good dancer? Do you dance other than stiffly at formal functions?”

“I’ve been known to cut a rug,” he answers. “I’m not stiff either.”

“Not right now, anyway.” I make a point to look at his crotch. “Square dancing then.” He smirks. “So a firm no. Shame, I can twerk like no one’s business.” I peer back down at the magazine. “Is he patient and confident? Like a saint.”

“Not always.”

“How do you know I’m talking about you?”

“I guess I don’t.”

“I am by the way. You are the most patient man in the world,” I say. “I’m thinking about hosting a roast for your next birthday.”

He sighs loudly.

“Moving on. When he talks to you, does he hold eye contact?” I stare at him. He looks over at me. “How else would I have become so obsessed with those Caribbean eyes?” His smile is shy this time. “Speaking of, what color eyes do you think I have? No one ever gets this one right.”

“Green,” he says without hesitation. “With just a touch of gold in them. They remind me of jade when you’re tired. They’re almost emerald when you’re up to something. When you’re angry, they look like a storm brewing in the Atlantic Ocean.”

My mouth hangs open. Most men can’t even tell me if they’re light or dark. Peter knows more about me than anyone I’ve been in a relationship with. It’s hard to express how being that seen makes me feel.

It would be so easy to fall in love with him. He’s made it very clear, however, that can never happen. I close my eyes to regain my balance. When I open them, he’s watching me out of the corner of his eye.

“Does he interrupt you?” I say, pressing on. “Only when I embarrassed him.”

“You never embarrass me,” he argues. “I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about us.”

“Heaven forbid.” I roll my eyes. “Is he a good kisser? I don’t think I can judge based on that one game in the basement of your house.” He smiles like he has a secret. “What?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“No, you know something I don’t. What is it?” I cross my arms and wait for him to spill.

“You don’t remember kissing me the night before last?” he asks.

“No.” I’m shocked again. I don’t remember that at all. Damn it. “When did I kiss you?”

“You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Was it at least good?” I’m going to be pissed however he answers. If it was good, I totally missed out. If it wasn’t, well, I don’t know, but that’s not nice to admit.

“Very good.” He grins.

“I’m going to mark that as an affirmative then. But we’re going to have to circle back around to that one.”

He shakes his head, but I see a smile in the corners of his mouth.

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