Page 47 of Up in Smoke

“You look really pretty,” I admit out loud.

“I do? I don’t know about that.” She waves off my comment like I wasn’t being serious. “But thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, except for your face. Yikes.”

Our familiar jests put me at ease until I remember I shouldn’t keep things light if I want her to think the rest of what I have to say to her tonight isn’t a joke.

“God, I’m freaking drained,” she all but whines. “If my brain leaks out of my ears tonight, just mop it up for me.”

I laugh, despite hating how tense she is. Yet again.

Now would be a good time, my subconscious tells me.

“You’re running on fumes.”

“Pretty much,” she agrees with a sigh. “Next weekend, I’m not working overtime or taking late meetings again like this. I swear I’m going to live in a fantasy world the entire time where jobs and consequences don’t exist.”

“Promise?”

She lifts her eyes to mine with a questioning look. “Yes. Why?”

“Because I’m about to hit you with something that I know you’re going to think is ridiculous, but I need you to just hear me out.”

“This is about me sleeping over again last night, isn’t it?” Her hands fly up in front of her like she’s surrendering. “I’m probably overstepping.”

My only issue with her sleeping over is that I want to hug her all night. Normalize friends who cuddle. I shake my head slowly, and her eyes light up with another guess.

“Is this about the desk thing? I already told you I don’t need you to get me one for when I hang out at your place and have work to check on. I’m not missing anything important while I’m there. The couch or kitchen table is literally fine if I need to open my computer for some reason.”

I love it when she anxiously babbles.

“No desks,” I say. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

She laughs nervously, and I stay as steady as I can, holding her stare.

“You’re freaking me out. Is this leading somewhere weird? Because your voice just dropped like three octaves, and you’re looking at me like you’re starved and considering biting a chunk out of my thigh.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Close.”

“What?” She bursts into laughter again and swats at my arm. “What the hell are you getting at?”

“I’m not going to set you up with some other guy and then tell you how to screw his brains out without getting attached,” I blurt out.

Her cheeks instantly flush. “Oh.”

I should feel bad for putting that look of disappointment on her face, but deep down, I’m not sorry. Keeping other guys away might be a self-serving agenda on my part. But if anyone else is going to have her, I damn sure won’t be helping it happen or speeding along the process.

“Why not?” she whispers, eyes darting.

I scoot closer, and she doesn’t back away. If anything, her energy pulls me in.

Energy never lies.

After brainstorming this conversation last night, I worried about my nerves when I finally got the chance to bring it up to her. My hands might shake, my brow might sweat, and I’d blinktwice as often. I might look at her pretty face for too long and get caught off guard.

But I don’t feel any of that. Instead, I’m valiant. The blood rushing through my veins is chock-full of pent-up adrenaline and pure want rather than fear. I’m taking it as a good sign.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, despite not answering her last question.

“Yes.”

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