Page 46 of Glitter Rose
“The part where you came so hard you shook? Or the part where we fought after?”
“Asshole.” She throws a kernel at me.
I catch and pop it in my mouth. “Just clarifying.”
“Both. Neither.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “What are we doing?”
“Eating popcorn and having our first date. You in?”
She tosses her hair back. “I’m in. But just so we’re clear—this isn’t a pity date because you’re leaving tomorrow, right?”
She still doesn’t understand. “Not pity. And I told you I’m either leaving with you or not at all.”
“Okay.” Her gaze lingers on my face. “What happens next, exactly?”
I reach under a pillow, producing a small book I found on her shelves. “Five Hundred Questions for Couples.”
She snorts, nearly choking on a piece of popcorn. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?” I flip through the pages. “Too cheesy?”
“No, it’s…” She shakes her head, laughing. “You’re full of surprises.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Hit me.”
I flip to a random page. “Alright. Easy one. I even know the answer. Your favorite color is blue.”
“Trick question. My favorite color is yellow.”
“Your nails are blue. Your bathroom’s blue. That weird statue thing shaped like a cat? Blue.”
Her lips twitch. “Maybe I like multiple colors.”
“Maybe you’re being difficult on purpose.”
“Pot, kettle.” She pops another kernel in her mouth, eyes never leaving mine. “What’s yours? Black?”
“Green with a speck of gold.” I meet her eyes meaningfully. “Specifically, the color of certain people’s eyes.”
The blush that spreads across her cheeks is worth the corniness.
She clears her throat. “Thatwas cheesy. Your turn. What’s the worst job you ever had?”
“Dishwasher at a seafood restaurant.” I stretch my arm across the cushions behind her. “Smelled like dead fish for months. Couldn’t get it out of my hair.”
“Is that why you keep it so short?”
My fingers touch the buzzed sides reflexively. “Tactical.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She tilts her head. “I think you like looking dangerous.”
“That a problem?”
“Not at all.” Her voice drops lower. “Quite the opposite.”
Fuck. The way she looks at me right now—half challenge, half invitation—makes me want to forget the whole date thing and take her right here on this pile of pillows.
