Page 54 of Ambiguous
I shrug. “I mean, it might be fun. But you’ve seen my house, so it might clash.” I grimace. “Sorry. That was a strange thing to ask.”
I was thinking about you and some chap you haven’t told me about. I was wanting to give you a chance to tell me without me asking.
“You can ask me strange things.” He grins. “I figure that’s the creative process, right?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Have you written an octopus song yet?”
“No, but I’ve been writing about other fears. Disappointing my fans or my family. Hurting people or letting them down. Not living up to my potential.”
Not having the person I want like me back. Always being alone. Not being worthy of someone sticking around.
He reaches across the table and taps the back of my hand. “Does this mean I have to take you to an aquarium? To face marine life?”
“Yes,” I reply immediately. Because I want a date with Sam, even if we’re not calling it a date. Even if it’s research. Even if there can’t be anything between us, because he’s taken.
Except in my brain, it’s totally a date, despite so many reasons why it can’t be.
He nods and grins. “Great. Let’s do it. Is there a special time when you want to go? Like when it’s not so busy?”
“You’re serious?” This seems way too easy, but I’m not going to argue. “My manager will call and make arrangements. After hours, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course.” He tilts his head. “Is it going to be okay withyouto be mere feet away from eight-armed creatures with suction cups on their tentacles?”
“No,” I admit. “It’s not. But I’m hoping it will spark something to write about.”
“Then it’s a date,” Sam says. And the tips of his ears turn pink.
I’m charmed, but then I hold my breath. Because he has a relationship he isn’t telling me about. My jaw tightens.
Ask him.
But I can’t. Because there’s no right answer. If he has a boyfriend, then what the hell was he doing kissing me back?
I want to spend time with him, though, and not just because he helps me with songwriting. I like him—as a friend, if I can’t have more than that.
He presses his lips together. “You look irritated.”
“Sorry. I had an unpleasant thought. But it doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t like to admit to being irritated.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Hmm.” He looks around the room, which is empty except for us. “It’s okay to not be such a nice guy all the time. You can have opinions about things.”
“I do.”
“But you don’t want to express them.”
That brings a laugh out of me. “I express them.”
“Even ones that cause friction? Where you disagree with someone? Name something you don’t like but everyone else does.”
“Pie,” I answer immediately.
He tilts his head and wrinkles his nose. “Are you serious?”
