Page 5 of The List
Climax.
Xenorotica.
* * *
He looks up at me then, and I could swear the same words just flitted through his mind. There’s a knowing expression in those brown eyes, and I’m positive he read the list. He had to, right?
Or maybe I imagined the look, because he’s back to pointing out some feature he updated on the laptop. Something about RAM or ROM or whatever. I can’t hear anything he’s saying over the voice in my head chanting, “Did he read it? Did he not read it?”
He turns and asks if what he just showed me makes sense, and I nod like a dummy. For all I know he just gave me a recipe for snickerdoodles or told me where Jimmy Hoffa is buried. I have no clue. He holds my gaze, and I try to blink away the panic.
I can’t take it anymore.
I have to defuse the tension or I’ll explode.
I finally blurt it out. “Look, Simon—I’m feeling a little flustered because I know you saw The List on my monitor when I dropped off the computer, and it’s really nice of you to pretend you didn’t see it, but obviously, you did, and I feel like I should explain that it’s probably not what you think it is.”
I drag in a deep breath to wash down that big mouthful of crazy.
He looks up from the laptop then, a bemused expression in those light brown eyes. “What do I think it is?”
He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I wonder if I’m sharing way too much. He sounds genuinely intrigued, and I feel my cheeks heating up. Did I just make an ass of myself? Certainly not the first time.
I take a deep breath, determined to just get this out so I can stop feeling so damn awkward. “You probably think it’s some sort of Fucket list.”
“Fucket list?”
“Right. Like a sexual bucket list. Things I plan to do before I’m thirty or something like that. But that isn’t what this is.”
There’s a spark of curiosity in his expression. His fingers, long and strong and perfectly shaped, tap the keyboard. I order myself to stop staring.
“If it’s not a Fucket List,” he says, “What is it?”
I take a deep breath and squinch my eyes closed, knowing the words that are about to come out of my mouth will make me sound like I’m hiding eighteen cats in my bedroom. “Over the years, I may have told my sisters a story or two about the wild and crazy sex things I’ve done.”
“So, these are things you’ve already done?”
There’s no judgment in his voice, but there’s a note of confusion. My eyes pop open, and I find myself shaking my head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant I made all this stuff up.”
“All of it?”
“I know it sounds stupid, but I wanted them to think I’m this crazy, uninhibited wild girl. Which I’m not.”
I watch his face, looking for signs he might think he needs a restraining order.
I see no hint he’s worried for my sanity.
Just a slow, sexy smile that makes my stomach feel like a phreatic eruption in the magma chamber of a shield volcano. Still, he says nothing, and I feel myself rushing to fill the silence.
“Anyway, I just didn’t want you to think I’m the sort of woman who goes around making lists of sexual exploits. Even fake ones.”
“Exploits,” he repeats, then grins at me. “There’s a word you’ll have trouble typing without an X.”
I laugh in spite of myself. I was right, dammit. The tension’s gone now, or at least the awkward kind is. Nothing like pointing out the elephant in the room to help everyone relax.
Another word I won’t be able to type without an X.
“Right,” I say, clearing my throat. “So anyway, I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”
