Page 72 of Show Off

Like I said,options.

Drawing a breath, I turn my attention to my surroundings. The jazzy hum of crickets matches the buzz inside me as my sandals crunch gravel. My heart shakes my ribcage like it’s trying to get out.

I’m nervous, okay?

But another breath of evening breeze takes off some of the edge. Whispers of pine needle and apple blossom thread the night air. Clouds puff fat and pink above the mountains as a hawk dips down to grab a snack from the pond. I stop to watch, conscious of my pulse thrumming, my nipples naked under the simple gray T-shirt that I’ve French-tucked into white denim cutoffs.

With one more steadying breath, I turn and stride the rest of the way to Dal’s front door.

He answers on the first knock, barefoot as he throws open the door with his T-shirt in a fist. As my eyes trail his bare chest, I can’t decide if that makes this harder or easier.

“Hi,” I manage. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks.” He watches my eyes drag his chest. “You here to critique what I wear in the privacy of my own home?”

“Not really.” I forget why I’m here for a second. That’s a lot of skin on display and?—

“Lana?” The concern in his voice lifts my eyes from his chest. “You okay?”

“Yes.” I bite my lip. “Mostly.”

Dal drops the tease. “You look like you need a friend.”

My chin tilts up. “Is that what it looks like I need?”

His dark eyes flash as Mouse bounds over to greet me. “Hey girl,” I squeak, gathering myself to scratch her soft ears. Plucking the biscuit from my pocket, I hand it over. “How’s it going?”

She wags in response and takes the treat gently. Dal studies the tote in my hand. “What do you have there?”

I swallow my nerves and hold out the bag. “I brought Nutter Butters and canned whipped cream.”

The edge of his mouth quirks. “Your secret favorite dessert.”

“Yes.” I gulp back another wave of nerves. “I brought plenty to share.”

“Seems like a culinary crime, but all right.” He steps aside, holding the door as I slip past him. “I’ve got the house to myself tonight.”

“I know.” I run a hand over an accent table, set low and close to the wall for Ji-Hoon’s wheelchair. When I turn to face Dal, there’s a question in his eyes. “I didn’t come here to seduce you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Amusement lights his eyes. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Is it?” There goes my pulse, pitching a fit again. “After our failed car hookup, I wasn’t sure where things stood.”

His eyes lock with mine. “You’re not here to pick up where we left off?”

“No.” I’ve been thinking all day, and that’s not what I want. Not all of it, anyway. “I’m looking for something a bit more intimate.”

“More intimate than me inside you.” He gives a sharp nod. “Got it.”

I’m not sure he does, but he will. Hoisting the tote, I head for his kitchen. “Can we have snacks first?” I’m going to need reinforcements. “I’ll feel better with Nutter Butters.”

If he’s judging my snack, he says nothing as he opens a cupboard and gets out a platter. Napkins, too. The fancy cloth kind, plus a pair of dessert plates I’m pretty sure are real china. “Do you drink milk with Nutter Butters or champagne?” He pokes around in his fridge fridge. “There’s soy milk and a little vanilla almond milk.”

“Bubbles, please.” I sit down on the couch, not sure what to do with my hands. I settle for opening the box of cookies and placing the whipped cream beside it.

Dal returns and sets the tray on the table, along with two flutes of bubbly. With precise movements, he plates the cookies, arranging the peanut-shaped biscuits to form daisies. He grabs the can of whipped cream, and before I can blink, a dollop of whipped cream forms each center.

“I assume you want to dip the cookies in the whipped cream,” he says, and I find myself breathing easier.

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