Page 67 of Practice Makes Perfect
“This is the best part,” I announce. As the character delivers her passionate monologue, I recite along with her in perfect French, complete with dramatic hand gestures: “Je ne peux plus vivre sans toi. Mon cœur t’appartient, pour toujours. Tu es mon destin, mon âme sœur, ma raison de vivre.”
But even as I say it, I’m not sure if I’m saying it to Linc or the movie.
Linc stares at me, his mouth slightly open. “What did you just say?”
“I cannot live without you. My heart belongs to you, forever. You are my destiny, my soulmate, my reason for living.” I shrug. “It’s super cheesy.”
“That was…” he pauses, his green eyes softening as they meet mine. “That was really cute. Sexy.”
My cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thanks. I’ll take ‘sexy’ as a compliment any day of the week!”
“Thanks for letting me crash your movie night,” he says softly.
“Anytime,” I reply, meaning it more than I probably should.
We inch closer on the couch—not exactly cuddling but sitting close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off his body. The movie continues, but my brain completely abandons any attempt to follow the plot. I’m acutely conscious of how close we are, how easy it would be to reach over and take his hand…
“This is basically a date,” Linc says suddenly, eyes still on the screen.
I stiffen, my whole body tensing as if someone’s just poured ice water down my spine. Date? But we said no feelings, right? Thiscan’tbe a date… can it? We’d agreed we were just having sex lessons—just hooking up, basically—so how can this?—
Linc notices immediately, putting his warm hand on mine. “I was joking, so calm your mind,” he says quickly. “Though movie dates are my favorite kind.”
I force myself to relax. “In my very limited experience, movie dates are literally theworst, though.”
“What? No way!”
“Yes way,” I argue, thankful for the shift to lighter territory. “You can’t talk during them, so how are you supposed to get to know the person?”
“That’s why movie dates aren’t for the beginning of a relationship,” Linc explains with the air of someone sharing profound wisdom. “They’re for when you already know the person. They’re just an excuse to hook up in a dark place that—if you pick the right movie—is usually empty.”
Heat rushes to my face, and I become extremely interested in a loose thread on my—wait, no, not my sweatshirt. Linc’s sweatshirt. The one he loaned me that night in his car when I was cold, and I… never gave back.
The one I realize I’ve been wearing alotsince that night.
Ohgod.
I’m literally sitting here wearing his clothes like we’re a couple or something. Does he think that’s weird? Should I give it back? But it smells so good, and it’s the softest thing I own and?—
“You look good in it,” he says, as if reading my mind.
“Thanks,” I mumble. “I just needed the extra comfort today.”
“Rough day?”
I hesitate, debating how much to share. My period started this morning, and while it’s not usually awful, today brought cramps that felt like tiny demons stabbing my uterus with pitchforks.
I flash back to high school, to Derek’s disgusted face when I mentioned being on my period. We were making out in the park, and he’d slid his hand under my shirt toward my stomach.
When I winced and explained why, you’d have thought I’d told him I had the plague. He actually wiped his hand on his jeans before muttering something about “girl problems” and leaving me there.
But Linc isn’t Derek. He’s definitely been with enough women to have encountered periods before. Hell, if he really is the campus stud, there’s a fair chance he’ssleptwith some women on their period. Right?
“I’m on my period,” I blurt out, then immediately want to sink through the floor.
Linc doesn’t even blink. “Oh. Do you need anything? Heating pad? Ibuprofen?” He pauses, then adds with complete seriousness: “Ice cream?”
The knot in my chest loosens. “I’m all stocked up,” I say, genuinely touched by his reaction. “Though I wish I’d grabbed some chips. I always crave salty stuff.”
