Page 9 of Concussion Protocol
I cut him off. “Shane. I was kidding. I thought we were giving me an excuse to make horny jokes."
Shane chokes out an awkward laugh. "Oh. Jesus. Sorry. Well, uh—bye then?"
A bark of laughter booms out of me. He doesn’t hang up right away, so I blurt out the first thing I can think of to keep him on the line.
"You're going to have to lighten up if we're going to do this thing."
"What thing?"
A nervous huff of air leaves me, and I bite my lip, thinking of a clever way to let him know I'm interested.
"The thing where you come back here to watch shitty TV and eat lasagna with me."
I leave out the underwear bit, even though it's my favorite part, because I don't want to scare him away. My intentions are honorable. Not that I wouldn't mind seeing him in his underwear, but honestly, sex isn't even part of my thought process right now. I just want to see him again, get to know him. And after only five minutes of being alone in my apartment, I want him back.
He's quiet for a long time. Long enough that I start thinking about how to get myself out of the awkward situation I've put myself in.Do I apologize for being so forward, or do I make a joke and backtrack?
"I need to go home and shower," he says quietly, his voice sounding unsure about what decision he should make. I jump on the opportunity.
"You're still here?"
"My car is still defrosting."
Thank fuck for a cold start to spring. I can hear how tired he is, though, and I wonder if I should give him a break.
"If you go home, you might not leave. Come back up here and let me take care of you for a little while."
"How exactly are you going to manage that?"
"I guess you’ll have to come up here and find out."
The longer the silence stretches out between us, the more worried I get that he's not going to take me up on the offer. More than worried, I feel almost panicked about it. Like this will be my only chance to get to know him.
I move over to my small balcony. From the far end, I can see most of the parking lot, including where the roller skate Shane calls a car is still parked. The windshield is completely defrosted.
A smile spreads across my lips. He wants to come up here, but is trying to think of reasons not to.
"Either you come up here, or my dumbass is going to have to walk down all those stairs to get you."
"I need a shower."
"I have one of those."
"I'd like to wear something other than scrubs, and that's all I have to change into."
"I'm sure we can find you something."
The line goes silent just as he climbs out of the car. He grabs a bag from his backseat and stares up at my apartment building for a minute before he starts toward the stairs. I grin, and then panic again, figuring I have maybe two minutes before he makesit up to my door. I run to the bathroom and brush my teeth as quickly as possible, and splash my face with water before running back to the front door. I open it just as he's rounding the corner, leaning casually against the doorframe.
The way he smirks when he sees me makes me forget to back up and let him in, and he has to move in close to get by me. His proximity makes me highly aware that I still haven't gotten dressed. I smirk back and try to play it off like my state of undress is intentional.
"You said we were watching shitty TV in our underwear," I say as I close the door behind him.
"And eating lasagna. That part is important."
"Yes, and lasagna," I laugh.
After showing him where the towels are, and giving him a stack of some of my smaller clothes to wear if he wants, I stand for a moment outside the door and listen to the shower run. It's not until my stomach growls that I remember what I'm supposed to be doing. It just so happens that my mom visited last week and left me with a freezer full of food, like she always does. And there happens to be a lasagna large enough to feed a small family in there. If my shining personality and witaren’t enough to hook him, my mama's cooking will. And I'm not above using it as a weapon against him. I know my way around a kitchen, but no one beats Johanna Wilton's cooking.
