Page 7 of Dare
“Soyou’re into women.”
“IfI say yes, will you leave me alone?”
“Hellno. I’d love to see you with a woman.”
“Trustme, you wouldn’t,” she snorts. “And just to make sure that image is wiped fromyour brain, I’m not into women.”
“Probablybetter in the long run. I don’t like to share.”
“Areyou going to shut up when the show comes back on?”
“Comeover and watch it with me.” The words jump out of my mouth before I can thinkabout the consequences. I learned a long time ago not to sleep with women Iwork with or live near. Causes too much drama when it’s over. And there’s noway I could have this woman beside me on my bed without taking her.
“Notgoing to happen.”
“Thenwe’ll just have to watch it together like this.”
“Whateverblows your skirt up,” she says, but I can hear amusement in her voice.
I’mwinning her over, getting her to talk to me, but why? Why am I so determined topursue her when she has no interest? I may have just answered my own question.I want her because she doesn’t want me. She isn’t going to trip over herself toget to me or go out of her way to do what I want like all the other women I’vebeen with. Plus, she has an amazing little body.
Wefall silent when the show comes back on, engaged by a world of the undead. Whenthey break for ads again, I remark, “He’s a dead man. They’re finally going tokill him off.”
“Bullshit.He’s a first season character. This isn’t Game of Thrones.”
Holyshit. She watches my other show too? I’m not big of T.V. but those are the twoshows I try not to miss. “If you tell me you’re a Lannister fan…”
“Nope,Targaryen all the way.”
“Ican live with that.” I can hear her giggle, and it puts a smile on my face.“You should read the books,” I advise.
“Youread?”
“Trynot to sound so shocked.” I read everything I could get my hands on while I waslocked up, but I’m not volunteering that information.
“I’lldo my best…shh, it’s coming back on.”
Silencedescends again until I shout “What the fuck!” at the same time I hear her yell,“Holy shitballs!”
“Shitballs?”I repeat, seized by laughter at her choice of curse word.
“Thekid just got his head chomped on!” she defends.
“You’reright. Shitballs is fitting.”
Whenthe show ends, the sound of her T.V. does as well, and I hear her bed creak.“Going to sleep now?”
“Ifmy infuriating neighbor will allow me.”
“Yourinfuriating neighbor can come over and make sure you sleep well. I’ve got thecure for insomnia.”
“Inthe same place you keep a plethora of STD’s, I imagine. Good night, Dare.”
“Goodnight Ayda.”
Thesmell of cinnamon wafts through my kitchen the next morning, making my mouthwater. Ayda must be baking and it smells amazing. Leaning against my counter, Igrab a cup of coffee and tap on the wall. “I smell French toast.”
“No,”she replies. “You smell cinnamon rolls.”
