Page 38 of Tricking an Introvert

Cole studied the menu, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. She was right, there were hundreds of options; way too many fucking options.

“What are you having?”

“Pistachio and chocolate. You can always try some of mine, you get something else.”

“What should I get? Pick for me.”

She lifted a brow, and he shrugged. “Well, you boast about having superior tastes. Let’s see what you recommend, oh wise one.”

“I don’t know what you like.”

“I like vanilla,” he shot back.

She grimaced. “Could we have a chocolate and pistachio cone, plus a pecan nut and cookie dough?”

That…didn’t sound awful.

“Doesn’t cookie dough have salmonella?”

“Do you intend to die without having lived a little, Westbrook?”

He chuckled. “Coming from Ms. Doesn’t Drive, Doesn’t Fly, Doesn’t Come Out Twice In A Row?”

She shrugged. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

She was. It was only fair that he get salmonella.

The cookie dough was delicious. Dammit.

“Are you going to say I told you so, if I admit that this is superior to vanilla?”

“Only if you don’t get sick.”

Cole often lost against Michael at taekwondo, but it had been a long time since he’d gotten trashed like a beginner. Twice. The second time, he ended up flat on his back after Michael hit him right in the chest. He should have seen the kick coming a mile away.

“Shit, Cole, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. That was on me. I’m good. We can have a redo if you’d like.”

“No, enough!” their sahyun said, glaring at Cole. “Where’s your head at? Certainly not here or now. Get it cleared up by next week.”

He headed out to the changing room, removed his dobok, and took a warm shower.

Where was his head at? In the Village, that was where his head was. He’d walked Tessa home the previous night, and waved goodbye.

Waved.

Like a complete friend-zoned loser.

If he was honest with himself, he was struggling to balance their friendship with the possibility of more, because their acquaintance was new, exciting, and oh-so-easy to destroy.

He liked her. He liked the fuck out of everything he’d seen, even her shyness, her preference for the comfort and simplicity of an evening at home. He wanted her—had since the very beginning. And worse yet, he respected her.

It looked like he was going to be blue-balled for quite some time.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s crawling up your ass?” Michael asked as they got dressed.

Yes. No. Yes.

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