Page 92 of No Interest in Love

“We deserve another night.”

She reaches for the chicken, but I cover it with the lid, cutting her hand off.

“Take it easy this time.”

“I’ll do what I want.”

I chuckle and push the cart away. She drops her mouth in mock shock, then stands up on the bed and lunges at me.

Woody makes it twice as long this time around.

6:45P.M.

“Tell me what that look is,” I say, dragging my fingers across Shay’s lips. I want to know every look, every thought.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because your head is big enough.”

The corner of my mouth lifts, and I tangle my fingers through her hair, pull her to me, and press a lingering kiss against her forehead.

“You know I say that cocky shit to bug you on purpose. I like seeing that feisty girl I met in Times Square, so I make her come out as often as I can.”

“Most people hate that girl.”

“Not me.”

She pushes her lips together, and I know she’s trying not to smile. I trace her mouth with a laugh, and that’s when I get the nose wrinkle, the narrowed eyes, the slow burn of annoyance flickering across her expression. And I laugh again, because there’s the feisty girl, and I didn’t have to say anything to pull her out that time.

“That casting director was out of his mind,” she says, and I raise an eyebrow to her. She sighs. “That’s what this look is. Because your ass…It’sglorious.”

Then my feisty girl smiles. She smiles so wide and her fingers tumble down my back, nails scratching slightly. She lands on my “glorious” maximus and squeezes it in a teasing pinch.

“Wanna go again?” she asks with a lift of her eyebrow. She doesn’t even get the entire sentence out before I’m back in the game.

After twenty minutes, I lose track of time.

9:01P.M.

Shay tangles our hands together, watching our fingers as we lie side by side, feet kicked up on the wall.

I’m watching her.

I don’t think I want to do anything else for as long as I live.

“Who was I inJace: The Movie?” she asks.

“Miss Unlikely,” I tell her without hesitation. She laughs.

“I like that.” Her eyes flick from our hands to meet mine. “Means I’m unpredictable.”

“You are very much that.” And thank you, screenwriter, for making her that way.

She slides closer, enough to press a kiss to my nose. I kiss hers right back, and with it I throw out every single page of the Stinson Bible.

I’m ready to be Ted.

---