Page 104 of Flirtasaurus
“Have you, though?”
“Have I what?”
“Really tried?”
I think about that for a moment.
“Not in a long time, I guess,” I admit.
It’s quiet for a few minutes. The only sound is our breathing and the cars whizzing by on the turnpike outside.
“What if we made a deal,” he proposes.
“What kind of deal?”
“In the morning, you call your dad, and I’ll call my sister. Seems like we both could do some work making things right with people.”
“Okay,” I say. “Deal.”
He kisses me on the forehead.
“Remember when I first met you, and you said you’d ‘recently decided to become more of a bastard?’”
This makes him chuckle. “Ha, yeah.”
“What was that all about? I haven’t seen even a smidge of bastard in you since.”
He sighs.
“I dunno. Sometimes it seems like that’s the way to go. Take my dad, for example. He was a douche to his wife and all but abandoned his kids, but he has everything.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t have you.”
It’s silent for a moment.
“Hmm,” he says.
“I know I’ve only known you a few weeks, but that’s long enough for me to know that losing you has got to be pretty devastating.”
I realize at that moment that I don’t ever want to find out.
He turns my face to meet his in a kiss, and I absolutely melt for this guy.
I have no idea what will happen with us in the future, but for right now? I feel so damn lucky that this amazing guy has even entered my orbit.
After that, and I absolutely hate to admit this, we… make love. I know, gross, right? But there’s nothing else you could call it. Couldn’t be further from what happened last night at the museum. Though that was its own kind of awesome, but in a completely different way. This time, there are no shrooms. No drunken tap-dancing. I don’t make jokes. I don’t keep him from seeing the real me by role-playing or posing arguments or controlling the moment.
I just… let things unfold.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“My dad is on his way!” I shout toward the bathroom as I’m slipping on my shoes.
“Great!” Ralph says from inside. Then I hear the sound of hinges squeaking, and there he stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel. “How’d that conversation go?” he asks casually as he tilts his head to the side and towel dries his shaggy hair.
