Page 54 of I Wanna Be Your Lager

“Is that so?” I lean away and stretch my arm over the back of the couch, wiggling my eyebrows.

She laughs and playfully smacks my chest. “Unfortunately, that,” she glances at my crotch, “is staying in your pants tonight. Let me grab it. I’ll be right back.” She rises to her feet and rounds the couch before strolling to her bedroom. When she returns, she has a hand behind her back. “I know we’re not really in the gift-giving portion of this,” she waves a hand between us, “but I saw this and thought of you. And it’s Christmas.” She swings her hand from behind her back and holds out a red and gold-wrapped present.

My back goes rigid as I sit up. “You got me a present?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nothing special.”

She places it on my lap. I stare at it, waiting for the gotcha prank because people don’t buy me presents. Fuck. I don’t remember the last time anyone bought me anything. Especially out of the blue because they saw it and thought of me.

“Please say something,” she whispers. “The longer you stare at it, the more foolish I feel.”

I peer up at Eve. “Shit. I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, for starters, you can open it.” She bites her lips together.

I turn it over and slide my finger under the paper, releasing the tape. She takes a seat next to me as I carefully peel away the wrapping paper. It’s a hardback, but it’s not the traditional fiction size. I flip the book over and stare down at the colorful picture of a short stack of pancakes.

“It’s a sketchbook for you to draw in.” She shifts back and forth on the couch.

I can’t take my eyes off the sketchbook. She bought me a sketchbook. She bought me a present, and it’s a sketchbook. Warmth radiates through my chest.

“You hate it.” She buries her head in her hands. “It’s a dumb gift.”

The wrapping paper floats to the floor as I spin to face her. I brush her hands away from her face, wanting to see her. “This is probably the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“I never got a lot of gifts, so this is great. I’ll definitely make use of it.”

A pained expression spreads over her features before she quickly recovers. “I’m glad you like it,” she says softly.

Fuck. Now I feel like the asshole. “I didn’t get you anything.”

She rests a hand on mine. “I didn’t get it for you with the expectation of something in return.”

“But still.” My gaze falls.

She sits up, inching closer to me. “How about this? You can make it up to me with the date.” She grins. “Is it weird that I’m excited about going on a date with you?” She lifts her leg, tucking it under her as she turns to face me.

“Nah.” I rest my hand on her thigh. Touching her grounds me, which tells me this is real. Right now, that trumps being scared. Mostly scared of what Jake will do to me, but I’m willing to pay the consequences because I don’t think I can give Eve up. “I’m excited too.”

She flips my hand over. With a feather-light touch, she drags her fingertips across my palm. “What do you have planned for our date?”

“Oh. I’m supposed to plan the date? I thought you were.” I smirk.

“I can. How do you feel about mani-pedis?”

“It doesn’t matter what we do as long as I get to do it with you.” I lean closer, and she does the same. Even though we’ve been in the bar all night, her sweet scent invades my senses. Her eyes drift closed as our mouths inch closer together. A door creaks open, and we jump away from each other like a couple of teenagers on the verge of getting caught by a parent. My heartpounds in my chest as Eve does her best to put space between us. A couple more inches, and she’ll be sitting on the armrest. A second later, Jake emerges from the hallway and enters the living room.

He scrubs the sleep from his eyes. “I thought I heard someone out here.”

“Sorry we woke you,” Eve blurts out.

I’m sorry too because I was seconds away from pulling Eve to my lap and kissing the hell out of her, then convincing her to stay in the basement with me so I could continue kissing her. Everywhere.

“No problem. How did the night go?” Jake stops behind the couch, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Good,” I answer.

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