Page 81 of Relationship Goals

“The smoothie was delicious,” she says.

“Abigail,” I say slowly, taking her hand off where she’s systematically destroying the hem of the shirt. “Why are you so nervous? Is it me? If it’s too much, me coming with you, say the word. I will drive you home afterward, and you don’t have to see me again. I don’t wantto push you away because I’m ready to spend the day with you and you aren’t.”

“Your bathroom was weirdly clean.”

Okay, so we’re taking turns with the non sequiturs. All right.

“Yeah. I like things neat, and I pay a service to keep my shit organized for me. They clean the house top to bottom once a week. I’m not a slob, but I can’t be bothered.” I shrug.

“Oh. That sounds…normal.”

“Nah, I don’t think it is, but I can afford it and I don’t give a fuck.” I watch her carefully, noting the way her hand twitches in mine, like it’s too busy to stay still. “What’s wrong?”

“I like you,” she tells me, frowning, her eyes huge and dramatic even without the makeup I’m used to seeing her in. “I like you, and I am not used to liking someone so fast, and it’s freaking me out. I don’t know. I’m probably just being stupid.”

I raise her hand, kissing her knuckles impulsively. Her breath hitches with a little moan, and my cock immediately gets hard.

“I like you, too. I don’t know what this is…between us,” I say, searching for words. “And I’m not good at, well, fuck, at all of this. At talking. But I can tell you I want to try. I think you’re special. And if I move too fast, I want you to tell me. I want you to feel comfortable with me, because I like the way you smile and laugh. If that means I sit out here in my car and wonder what the hell it is Lauren is doing to you in there, then so be it. But you’re not calling a fucking Uber.”

“Okay,” she says softly, a small smile playing around her lips. Then louder, more confidently: “Okay.”

“So I’m going to sit out here,” I say, unsure.

“Nope. Lauren is going to kick both our asses, and then we can talk shit about her on the way to whatever it is you have planned for the day.”

All I had planned for the day was being with her, so I blink once,then twice, trying to scrounge up an activity that doesn’t involve diabolical Pilates instructors.

“We’ll take it little by little,” I finally manage, but she’s already opening her door.

I have no idea what I’m going to do with her this Sunday, but I do know we’ll have a good time.

Because she likes me, and I like her, too.

•••

Pilates was afucking mistake.

Sweat drips down my brow, and Lauren is screaming at me.

She’s every bit as tyrannical as Abigail said.

The rest of the team would be half-dead by now, and that’s the only thought that’s kept me from giving up.

“Scoop out your stomach, Wolfe!” she yells over the music, which isn’t really loud enough to yell over, but I’m not about to risk earning more attention and more sets of whatever the fuck torture this is.

“Pull up through your anus, Hunt,” she commands.

I startle in surprise at her directive, then roll onto my stomach, not caring one bit about anything other than stretching out my strained abdominals.

“I don’t know what that means, Lauren,” Abigail tells her, and there’s a slight choked quality to it like she’s going to start crying.

Startled, I glance over at her, and she’s not crying—she’s trying not to laugh.

I bite my cheeks, somewhat terrified of what Lauren will do.

“Don’t make eye contact with me or I’m going to lose it,” Abigail says on a pained exhalation. “Don’t evenlookat me.”

“Your anus, Abigail! Your pelvic floor! How do you not know what your anus is? Your butt! The butt hole! Pull it tight like you’re cinching it up,” Lauren chants at her like an ass-obsessed drill sergeant.

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