Page 34 of Motivating Mira
But now my brain replaced Doc with Daddy and the heat already gathered behind my zipper turned throbbing. But I wasn’t just base instincts in a body, so I ignored it—shoving my growing hunger for her deep down.
“It just feels like a margarita night,” I replied, forcing lightness to my tone, but my voice cracked a little. Shifting in my seat, I grabbed my napkin and tossed it in my lap.
“That bad, huh? How many roommates do you have?” She flipped the pages of the menu absently.
“My roommates are a cake walk compared to?—”
She cut me off, looking me dead in the eye. “Nope.”
“Nope?” I repeated confused by more than just the random word she threw at me but also the firmness of her tone.
“I’m here to forget about my troubles, so don’t tell me we should be talking about my shit day instead of yours because you think mine is shittier, okay? It’s not a competition and to be honest, if you really want to be my friend, you’ll let me hear your shitty drama for once.”
“Okay.” My brow rose, but I chuckled. “That’s fair.” The Mira I knew from two years ago wouldn’t have done that. She’d have made a joke and shyly brushed off her own feelings. I was proud of this new side of her.
“Good. Now spill the tea.”
My mouth hitched up and instead of calling her bossy, I asked, “The shitty tea?”
Her freshly washed round face lit up in a smile and I cocked my head to admire it. She had a youthful glow, the natural kind, that would fool people about her age for years to come.
“Shittier the better.” She scrunched her nose, and I had to fight the urge to kiss the smattering of freckles that wrinkled with it.
Get it together, man. She needs a friend.
“See now that sounds dangerously like competition,” I said.
She laughed, throwing her head back, her silky blonde curls falling over her shoulders to her back exposing her delicate neck and more of those beautiful freckles on her shoulders and chest.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said, giving her a mock serious look. “I’m here for it. And I’m highly competitive.”
Our drinks arrived and Silas stared at Mira’s smile. He looked bewildered by it.
“It’s been a while since I saw you smile like this,” he said sliding a plate with a couple of limes on it across to the middle of the table. “It looks good on you.”
She glanced at him, giving him a small, pressed smile. “Thanks.”
“I’ll grab you some chips and salsa to start but are you ready to order?”
“Um, I don’t know.” She glanced at me. “What about you?”
“I think we need some more time,” I said remembering how much she hated making decisions.
Silas nodded and left us to go tend to a large group that had just arrived.
“Pick an implement, Mira. If you can’t decide what you want to eat, what you want to do, or where we should go, I think you need some practice in decision making. Hmm?”
“And if I don’t choose?”
“It’ll be this.” I pulled the rubber paddle she hated from behind my back, and she gasped.
“Not that.”
“Yes, that. Now pick an implement and a position. You’ve got two minutes.” I looked at my watch.
“Two minutes?” she asked in disbelief.
“Tick tock.”
