Page 75 of I Wanna Text You Up

“Wow, I’m impressed. I’ll whip up the sauce real quick and then we should be in business. I’m starving all of asudden.”

“Were you masturbating inthere?”

“What? No!” he says tooquickly.

“That was not convincing at all. You totally jerked off in the shower justnow.”

“I-I did no such th-thing.” His voices wavers at theend.

“You are a terribleliar.”

“I was in the shower for like fifteen minutes. What kind of man do you think Iam?”

“Obviously a very speedyone.”

He rushes toward me, giving me a lazy grin. “Oh I’ll show youspeedy.”

“All right.” I push at his chest. “Back it up, bucko. We have dinner to finishup.”

Caleb gives me an exaggerated eye roll. “You’re no funsometimes.”

“I’ll show you funlater.”

“Is that a promiseor…”

“It’s awe’llsee.”

“Come on, Zoe.” He waggles his brows. “You can’t resist this sexy body muchlonger.”

“I can, and Iwill.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, I realize this is probably the longest I’ve ever gone without sleeping with someone, especially with someone I’ve been…well, whatever I’ve been doing withCaleb.

We’ve been doing this tango of flirting for weeks now, sometimes in person and sometimes by text, but in this day and age, that doesn’t matter much anymore. Flirting is flirting no matter if it’s through a screen or not. It progresses the relationship like it never used tobefore.

Point is, we have something going on, and we’re clearly still tiptoeing around the end game of itall.

It’s like we’re stuck at bat waiting for the perfect pitch, the perfectmoment.

Caleb can joke all he wants about me being the one waiting to make the final move, but truth is, we’re both too scared to push this any further. He says he’s over Delia, and I believe him about that, but I don’t think he’s too keen on jumping into bed with her best friend so soon. He’s not that kind of guy, and he’s never been that kind ofguy.

It’s what I like about him so much: he gives a shit. He doesn’t jump into bed with anyone. He has to care about them. They have to mean something tohim.

That is so opposite of what I’ve always done and what the men I’ve been with have alwaysdone.

For the first time in my life, I’m beingcautious.

And I’m loving the slowbuild.

Though we make no sense together—the artist and the athlete—we somehow make two worlds collide in the best ofways.

“Whatever you say,” he mutters, not sounding convinced atall.

I don’t think I’m convincedeither.

He moves around the kitchen, finishing up dinner. He pops the oven open to check on the breadsticks and pauses for a beat toolong.

“Zoe?” The way he says it, like something is wrong, has me gripping the edges of thecounter.

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