Page 41 of Afterglow
Who can eat at a time like this?
“I’m not that hungry, to be honest. I’ve got some leftovers I can turn into hot girl dinner.”
“What’s ‘hot girl dinner’?”
I shrug. “There’s cheese and crackers. And there are a few roasted Brussels sprouts I can shred.”
A disapproving noise grumbles from his throat. “That’s not dinner.”
“I can make you something, if you want. I’m seriously not hungry.”
I almost don’t notice we’ve pulled into the parkade already.
“Absolutely not. I can make myself a smoothie and a sandwich.”
“Ooh, Mr. Independent,” I joke as we walk down the hallway to the apartment. “Do you feel like watching a movie with me while we eat?”
“Hmm. Depends.”
“On?”
He steps through the doorway behind me. “The movie. I’m very picky, you know.”
“I’msosure. I’ve never seen you watch a movie.”
“Excuse me, I was half-dead those first two weeks, and I am too much of a gentleman to say whose faultthatwas.”
The back of my hand swats his arm. He doesn’t flinch. I glower. “Y’know, I don’t think I like this side of you.” Liar. Pretty sure you like him more every day. “I’ve already said I was sorry about that. Multiple times.”
“And I forgave you,” he says with a polite half-bow, his eyes closed, “but that doesn’t mean you can try to take advantage of my innocence under the guise of dinner and a movie.” His hands clutch the crewneck collar of his tee, tugging it together as if to cover himself.
A horrendous, unladylike laugh bursts from me. “Have you always been this silly?”
“I beg your pardon! If this is your way of convincing me to watch a movie, you’re going to have to try harder, Ms. Irani. I require effort. I require wooing.”
He wants to play hard to get? I can court with the best of them.
“Fletcher,” I coo. Three steps close the distance between us before my hand reaches for his bearded chin to brush over the soft hair with my thumb. “Do you wanna have dinner and watch a movie with me?”
He drops the charade, his body melting under my touch like ice cream on a hot day. “Yes, please.”
“Good.”
I flip through the options as Fletcher finishes making his turkey sandwich and settle onVeer-Zaarawhen he joins me on the couch.
“FYI, I donotapprove of hot girl dinners.”
Crispy bits of the Brussels sprouts crunch while I chew. “Good thing I’m a grown woman who doesn’t require a man’s approval.”
“So sassy.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
The title music of the 2004 classic plays. I back into the corner of the sectional, sitting with my legs crisscrossed and the dinner plate on my lap. Fletcher sits on the next cushion over, facing the TV.
“What’s this movie about?”
“Yearning. Andshh.There’s no talking during movies.”
