Page 8 of The Best Kind of Forever
My own heart is thudding in my ears like a caged bird. I was going to agree with him, but the next set of words out of my mouth aren’t anywhere close to a compliment.
“…full of yourself,” I finish.
That was supposed to be an inside thought, Aeris.AN INSIDE ONE.
“I like to think of it as having a healthy confidence,” he muses.
I laugh, but it comes out humiliatingly flat. “More like being flippantly cocky.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that your way of calling me attractive?”
Attractive? ATTRACTIVE? Are you kidding me? He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“How did you possibly get that from what I just said?”
His cheeks puff out a little from the coy grin that crests between them. “You can tell a lot about a person from what theydon’tsay,” he tells me.
“You’re not hideously ugly, but don’t get a big head, alright?” I grumble.
“Oh, there’s plenty about me that’s big besides my head.”
As if on cue, my eyes slide down to his crotch, and then I immediately avert my gaze. My nervousness elicits a laugh from him, one that has his shoulders shaking and his voice thick with gravel.
“I’m not making you nervous, am I?” he drawls, scooting an inch closer to me, just waiting for me to walk right into his trap.
“You’re not making me nervous. You’re not even all that. If I had to guess how big your penis was, I’d say a three-inch punisher at best.”
Oh, God. Why did I just say that? The last thing this conversation needed was the addition of a discussion about male genitalia. ABORT!
He scrubs a large hand down his face, catching on the stubble dusting his jaw. “Damn, that’s being generous. I normally can’t get it up most days.”
I want to crawl into a hole and die. Embarrassment grips my body as any and all words rut against my throat, so I settle for a good, old-fashioned smile. But I don’t think it’s very charming. More like one of those awkward smiles people give each other when they’re passing one another in the grocery store.
Upon seeing my flustered expression, he corrects himself. “It’s a joke. I’m joking.”
“Riggght. Right.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, both of us unsure how to continue the conversation, both particularly interested in the conveyor belt of people moving through the small space.
Finally, he caves.
“Are you here by yourself?” he asks.
Look, I’m smart enough to know I shouldneveranswer that question if a stranger asks, but there’s something that seems trustworthy about this guy. Then again, I’m pretty sure girls said the same thing about Ted Bundy, and, well…
I take another sip from my drink to occupy my mouth, nodding my head.
“And how much have you had to drink?” he hedges, folding his arms over his chest, testing the tight sleeves of his shirt. He’s looking at me expectantly, those baby blue eyes of his shimmering with concern as his lips bow into a frown—a frown that still happens to be attractive, mind you.
I blink owlishly, holding my fingers up and swaying a bit in my seat. “I…uh…I lost count,” I whisper.
The muscle in his jaw moves in tight circles, and he claps his hands together and points them right at me. “Let me guess. You’ve just been broken up with?”
I shake my head.
“You’re hiding from your boyfriend because you caught him using a lava lamp as a butt plug?”
A laugh sneaks its way out of my mouth, and as much as I want to frown, the corners of my lips give way to a smile. “I wish,” I reply.
