“I managed to stay for another year. And then I quit.” He looks distressed by the memory and defaults to defensiveness. “So you came over to grill me on my life choices?”
I catch his fingertips and hold his hand between mine.
“I didn’t want to be anywhere else tonight. I was crawling out of my skin.”
I’m proud I had the courage to say it.
He turns back to me and the expression in his eyes is softer.
“My leg was jiggling like this.” I demonstrate and he grins. “You should have seen me driving here. I was laughing like I’d broken out of prison. I was completely deranged.”
“Do you think you’ve finally cracked your sanity?”
“For sure. The weird need to stare at your pretty face completely overwhelmed me. I had the energy of twenty atom bombs.”
“Why do you think I go to the gym so much?”
A big bubble of happiness fills me. I struggle upright and lean against him, my head falling easily into the perfect cradle of his neck. It’s true; he fits me everywhere.
“You never have to explain your choices. Not to me, not to anyone.”
He nods slowly, and I cover him in the blanket too.
I could never have imagined one day I’d be sitting on a couch, my mouth tasting like vanilla, with my head on Joshua Templeman’s shoulder. It’s going to end in disaster. I close my eyes and breathe.
“I want to know why you were so sad today, Shortcake.” It’s uncanny how he senses shifts in my mood.
“I just was. I was thinking about everything at stake for me.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t. You’re my nemesis.”
“You’re awfully snuggly with your nemesis.” It’s true. I’m snuggling.
“I don’t want to talk about me. We never talk about you. I probably don’t know anything about you.”
He laces his fingers into mine and rests our hands on his stomach. I move my fingertips in tiny circles and he sighs indulgently.
“Sure you do. Go on, list everything.”
“I know surface things. The color of your shirts. Your lovely blue eyes. You live on mints and make me look like a pig in comparison. You scare three-quarters of B and G employees absolutely senseless, but only because the other quarter haven’t met you yet.”
He smirks. “Such a bunch of delicate sissies.”
I keep ticking things off.
“You’ve got a pencil you use for secret purposes I think relate to me. You dry clean on alternate Fridays. The projector in the boardroom strains your eyes and gives you headaches. You’re good at using silence to scare the shit out of people. It’s your go-to strategy in meetings. You sit there and stare with your laser-eyes until your opponent crumbles.”
He remains silent.
“Oh, and you’re secretly a decent human being.”
“You definitely know more about me than anyone else.” I can feel a tension in him. When I look at his face, he looks shaken. My stalking has scared the ever-loving shit out of him. Unfortunately, the next thing I say sounds deranged.
“I want to know what’s going on in your brain. I want to juice your head like a lemon.”
“Why do you even want to know anything about me? I thought I was going to be your one glorious bout of hate sex to cross off your list before you settle down with some Mr. Nice Guy.”
“I want to know what sort of person I’ll be using and objectifying. What’s your favorite food?”
“Vanilla ice cream. Eaten from your bowl, with your spoon. And strawberries.”
“Dream vacation destination.”
“Sky Diamond Strawberries.”
When I level a frustrated look at him, he relents, and points at the frame on his wall.
“That exact Tuscan villa.”
“I want to climb inside that painting. What would you do there?”
“Swim in a pool with a tile mosaic on the bottom.” He smiles at how much that image delights me.
“Does the pool have a fountain somewhere? Like a little lion spitting water?”
“Yes, it does. After the swim, I lie in the shade eating grapes and cheese. Then I’d have a big glass of wine and fall asleep with a book on my face.”
“Basically you’ve just described heaven. What happens then?”