How to Fail at Flirting(57)

He chuckled. “Um . . . how sure are you that you like me?”

“Eighty percent?” I joked, squeezing his hand. “Why? Didn’t like them?”

“I couldn’t get through the first one,” he admitted.

“What?” I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “Seriously?”

“I tried! I did, but you were asleep by then and . . . it was just so silly.”

“I’m in shock, I really am. How is that even possible? I don’t know if I can seriously be with someone who doesn’t like Star Wars!” I exclaimed, hitting his chest playfully, though he caught my wrist in soft hands.

“Are you seriously with me?” he asked, picking up on my words.

“Not if you can’t get through one of the best movies ever made,” I teased, but his expression remained serious, so I continued. “But otherwise . . .” I let my hand rest over his heart. “Maybe. Do you want to be?” I finished, my voice unsteady.

He searched my face. “Of course I do.” His fingertips grazed my cheek. “I want us to be exclusive. I want to admit that I already added a note on my calendar that May seventh is the day I met you, and, yeah, I want to be seriously in this with you.”

I didn’t know how to respond other than making another joke, but he kissed me tenderly, pulling my lower lip between his, slowly sliding his fingers into my hair. The kiss was like salted caramel, and I didn’t have to respond.

We parted, our faces close together. “Long-distance is hard, I know. And my ex told me I worked too much, and didn’t communicate enough, and she was right, but I’ll try. I will be better with you.” His eyes grazed over my face earnestly.

“Well,” I started, tracing my hand over his chest. “I . . .”

Nervousness crept across his expression.

“You’d have to give the movies another try,” I deadpanned.

He didn’t miss a beat and pulled his hands from me. “I guess it’s not meant to be, then.” He looked away before flashing a large smile at me and kissing me again, his arms wrapping around me.

“What about work?”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said in a low voice. “Seriously, Naya—Carlton and I put some checks and balances in place, like I promised. I’m not part of the team reviewing your department. We can also keep it quiet until this is all over if you want. Would that make you feel better?”

I weighed his words while longing for his fingers to move against my skin again, for him to distract me with his touch. “So, you’re my boyfriend?”

“Do you want to go steady?” His lopsided smile filled me with butterflies.

“Is that what it’s called for adults?” I asked, nervous and comfortable—it was a strange and conflicting ball of emotions. “I’ll require use of your letter jacket.”

“Maybe I do have you fooled if you think I had a letter jacket.” He laughed, his head tipping back. “Are you really going to make me watch Star Wars again?”

A yawn escaped my lips. “Definitely.”

He returned my yawn and smiled sleepily at me. We snuggled together, our naked bodies pressed close to each other. I fell asleep enveloped in his arms, the moonlight over the lake pouring into the large picture window.





Thirty-one





Jake’s friends strode toward our table the next morning. Both men were tall, one tanned and slim with blond hair and the other with skin a little darker than mine and a shaved head. On the drive over, Jake had assured me that his friends would like me. I tried to repeat that in my head; the gravity of meeting people close to Jake, of really being part of his life was scary. My gut reaction was to retreat, but it was too late, so I took a deep breath and smiled.

“I’m Eric.” The blond reached out to me. “This is my fiancé, Tyson.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Tyson grumbled. “Someone refused to leave until the puppy was perfectly settled.”

“Naya,” I said, shaking his hand. “You have a puppy?”

“A ten-week-old golden retriever.”

Tyson eyed Eric with an affectionate exasperation. “She’s a dog. She didn’t need the perfect white noise setting and six blankets to be alone for a couple hours.” He looked to Jake for support. “You’re with me, right?”

Jake held up his hands. “I am not getting in the middle again.”

“I think I read somewhere that white noise can help puppies relax in new environments,” I offered. “What’s her name?”

“Bandit.” Eric beamed like a new father, pulling out his phone to share photos of the little golden fluff ball. I’d wanted a dog since I was a kid, but my mom was allergic, and then I’d stayed so busy with work, it never seemed like an option. My heart lurched looking at photos of the puppy as some people’s did looking at baby pictures. I still didn’t have time, especially since I’d committed to a long-distance relationship less than twelve hours earlier, but maybe I could start volunteering. To do: Check out the humane society website.

“Anyway, we’re celebrating,” Tyson said, draping an arm across the back of Eric’s chair.

Jake raised an eyebrow, peeking up from his menu. “Celebrating?”