Funny Feelings (20)

“Ummm. Alright. Well—thank you?” he says, clearing his throat. “Back to your question, though. You won’t get me in trouble. Just round the joke out with that part about the unrelenting pressure put on moms.”

“Can do.”

“Why do you seem more neurotic than normal about offending anyone in your set?” he asks, cocking his head. “You already know that you have to dive in, and you know there’s always going to be someone who misunderstands, or someone who does understand and just doesn’t like it. Since when are you so concerned?”

“I don’t know. I guess maybe since Kara is a mom, too, as far as that particular bit goes. And since I want to come up with a lot of fresh material. I kind of feel like I’m…” I take a deep breath, reluctant to put a voice to the worry, “…blocked, or something. I’m having a hard time coming up with new stuff.”

“Well, what are you doing to get new stuff?”

“I mean, nothing specific, yet. It’s only been two weeks since we did all the paperwork, but… Alright, well.” I make an unflattering sound in the back of my throat. “Why do you always have to approach shit with logic, Meyer?”

He laughs. That deep rumbling, tumbling of gravel being poured. “Sorry. But I do have a logic-based solution we could try?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You up for killing two birds with one stone?” He picks up and sets down things continuously along the shelves. “When we do our practice dating, let’s make actual plans and go do things out of the ordinary together. Some level of ridiculousness is bound to take place.”

“You mean outside of the staged stuff?”

“Yeah, in addition to the staged stuff, instead of just practicing, let’s actually go out together and be a little more intentional about it. No Hazel, no activities centered around work or Hazel, and no hanging around at either of our houses. Let’s force ourselves out of the box a bit. Maybe being distracted will make the practicing come easier, too.”

“Sure,” I say, breathily. Marry me, while you’re at it. Let me bake something for you. Give me a pet name and let me massage your palms when you’re tense.

He laughs again. “Having this entire conversation with you in a goblin mask was surprisingly productive.”

“Well, I guess that’s good, because the damn thing is caught in my hair somehow and I can’t get it off,” I say, as it dangles from the tangled mass in my hair somewhere off to the side.

“Here. Need me to help?”

“Please?”

I turn and take a step backwards toward him, until I feel the warmth of him on the backs of my shoulders.

“Your hair worked itself into the knot back here.”

I hold my breath as he runs his fingers under pieces of my hair and parts them to the side. He grazes a spot on my neck and the spot feels instantly colder, like I need his hand to return to it, immediately.

“Hang on… I’m just going to have to tear it,” he says as he moves to my front.

His beard scrapes against my ear as I feel him tear the string with his teeth.

“There… you’re free,” he says softly, his voice only inches from my ear.

I could just turn my face and kiss along the column of his neck like this. I could run my tongue up the length of it. I could slip my arm around his middle and slide my hand down slowly, pressing, gliding to the back pocket of his jeans where I could lightly squeeze an ass that rivals America’s…

His chest collides with my shoulder on an inhale, and I peek up sideways at him to see that he’s staring that same angle down back at me. My eyes leave his furrowed brow and dart to his mouth. To that mouth that’s almost too pretty to belong to a man.

“My—” I croak.

He blinks, his thigh bumping into mine as Hazel darts into, then around him before he steps away.

“Let’s go!” she signs emphatically. “I need to find a cardigan and some beige tights, now!”

He turns back to me, but before he can say anything, I look down at my watch (that I don’t actually have on), then I say and sign, “I’m actually running late to meet Marissa. I’ll see you guys tomorrow for trick-or-treating, though.”

“See you! You better dress up!” Hazel replies.

I dart out without chancing another look at Meyer, certain that I’m about to burst into flames.





I’m pulling into the grocery store parking lot when his text comes through.

Meyer: Hazel’s headed to her Aunt’s for a sleepover tonight. Want to go to the outdoor movie? Or do you actually have plans with Marissa?

I pout a little at being called out, until I remember that we share a Google calendar and I’m anal about adding everything to it, since my brain cannot be trusted to memorize or track plans on its own.

I dial Marissa as I’m walking through the doors to the store.

“Hey-o!”

“Meyer asked me on one of his proposed practice dates, and we had a moment earlier, and even though we already talked about this dating thing in vague terms, now he’s putting a plan to it and I know I’m going to screw everything up and explode and jump on him.”

“Hold on. You’re going to need to break it down for me a bit here.”