Page 6 of Exhale

“Kissable.” He grinned, and my cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I put myself back together and sat my stupid arse on my chair. A girl might have loved that display of sudden romance…well, maybe not. I had no idea how this version of the Jamie Show was supposed to run. I wanted to flirt with him. I wanted to scoop him up and have him crawl onto my lap. I wanted him naked and panting underneath me. Instead, here I was looking into my empty paper cup as my confidence drained away.

“Next question?” I asked weakly.

“You just kissed me. That was…unexpected.”

“Not on your list?”

“No. Er…I…” He was flustered again, and I loved that.Imade him flustered. He made me insane, but in the absolute best way.

“Describe me in five words,” he said. There was that grin again.

“You’re cheeky,” I said, back on track. “Broad shoulders. Charming smile. Your eyes twinkle when you’re happy. You’re also totally kissable.”

“That’s more than five words.”

“Did I fail that one?”

“No, you’re good.”

“Any more questions?”

“You’re impatient. But handsome, and I like you. I like you a lot so far.”

“I think you’re lovely too.”

“Boxers or briefs?”

“Is that a dealbreaker?”

“No, it’s an opener so I can tell you what I prefer. You might not like it.”

“I’ll like it.” He could probably tell me anything at this point and I’d nod like a puppet and like it.

“So, boxers or briefs?”

“Briefs. I like to keep my junk in its place. Free-balling does nothing for me.”

“Fair enough.”

“And you?”

“I like…pretty things.”

“Like…lacy things and stuff? I don’t know what the correct term is, sorry.”

“Suppose?” He smiled nervously, and I grinned even wider as the images of him wearing ‘pretty things’ flooded my brain.

“I wear a lot of things that most people consider women’s stuff,” he continued. “Nail varnish and lacy underwear. Silky camisoles. Pink vests. I’m telling you now in case you find the stuff in my flat and think I’m a freak. I’m not. I like the things I like. I like how I look in them. I don’t wear dresses and high heels to the shops or whatever. Just small things. Things that make me feel good.”

“You can wear whatever you want. I’ll still like you.”

“Next question,” he said far too quickly. I hated that he was embarrassed about something that was clearly important to him. He rattled out a few more mundane and seemingly random questions, which I answered easily—I loved spicy food, didn’t mind garlic, hadn’t read any French classics but would happily indulge in his recommendation of cinematic greats. I didn’t mind his little quirks because with every word coming out of his mouth, I was more and more intrigued. I loved that he read books and had no idea about what was currently trending on Netflix. I loved his taste in music and promised to share mine. I made a mental note to add him to my Spotify subscription so I could educate his ears with the masterful songs that had shaped my youth.

“One thing that I won’t budge on…” He looked terrified again, and it instantly stripped him of his grown-up demeanour. I couldn’t bear it. He was far too special to be scared of me. I wouldneverhurt him. Well, I would try not to. I would love to try to make him comfortable around me. In my head, I was already weeks into this relationship, hoping he would come visit so I could introduce him to my friends. I wanted him to meet my family. I promised myself I wouldn’t disappoint him, but I was a fool of epic proportions. Here I was, thinking I could fall in love with a boy I had just met and live happily ever after.

“If we do this, if we decide to be together…” His voice was stronger now. “I mean, I know it doesn’t work that way, but if we, by some weird universal fluke, found ourselves still talking in a couple of weeks’ time, and decided that maybe we could be something?”

“Yeah?” I was hoping I was right about where this conversation was leading. I wanted what he wanted, and I realised, with a warmth burning in my stomach, that we were perhaps on the same page here. He was looking straight at me, and I was suddenly burning up.

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