Page 31 of The List
“Actually, that’s not a bad plan. You could just explain that it’s a dare or a bet or something. I’m sure there’d be plenty of women who’d be game.”
She shoots me a dubious look. “Show me how it’s done.”
“What?”
“Go pick up a woman and show me how it’s done.”
I take a sip of my whiskey sour and pretend to assess the scene. The only woman here that I really want to kiss is sitting beside me. That’s not helpful. “It’s different for guys.”
“How? I’d think it might be easier. You have the whole heteronormativity thing working in your favor.” She frowns. “The fact that I just used an eight-syllable word might be part of my problem.”
I grin and give her knee a soft squeeze under the table. “Trust me, it’s not a problem. A beautiful woman who’s also smart? That’s really fucking hot.”
She smiles. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
“So, you’re not going to show me how to pick up a woman?”
“I don’t think that’ll help you here.”
“Why not?”
I fold my hands around my glass and try to think of a way to explain it that doesn’t make me sound like a big chickenshit. “If a guy you don’t know comes up to you in a bar and asks you to make out with him, how are you going to respond?”
She grins and takes a slow sip of her drink. “Depends on whether he just fixed my laptop.”
The flirty flash in her eyes makes me a lot less eager to nudge her away from the table and out into the arms of another person, even if the other person is female. I shift under the table, deliberately bumping her knee with mine. Her legs are bare, and I have to fight the urge to reach under the table again to squeeze her knee or stroke her thigh or maybe just crawl under there myself and put my face between her legs so I can?—
“Is it okay to admit I’m really nervous about this one?”
I swing my gaze back to Cassie. The anxiousness in her expression makes my heart feel like a soggy puddle in the middle of my chest, and I wonder if there’s any way to put her at ease. Conversation seems to do it most of the time, so that’s what I try.
“You never experimented in college?” I ask. “I know that’s a rite of passage for a lot of women—have a few beers at a party, kiss another girl on a dare.”
Cassie shakes her head. “That wasn’t really my college experience. Studying soil science, most of my classmates were male.”
I feel a pang of jealousy that’s so ridiculous I have to wash it down with another sip of whiskey. What gives me the right to be jealous of any guys Cassie may or may not have hooked up with in college?
My asinine flare of envy goes unnoticed, since Cassie is still talking. “Besides, I wasn’t much of a party girl. I always worked too much.”
“I can relate.”
A slender brunette in a little black dress sashays in, clutching a tiny red handbag that matches her lipstick. Cassie fingers the rim of her glass as she watches the woman stride across the bar to join a group of expensively-attired ladies occupying the corner table. I watch as Cassie’s expression turns wistful, and it occurs to me she’s probably spent most of her life being an outsider in one way or another.
I don’t mean she’s friendless and lonely or anything. Between her career path and the fact that she’s so different from her sisters, she’s spent an awful lot of time carving out a delicate balance between fitting in and finding her own way.
I admire the hell out of her for that.
But my admiration isn’t what she needs right now. She needs my help mustering up the courage to kiss another woman.
“I think you’re right that this isn’t the best pickup spot,” I tell her. “How about a brew pub or a dive bar or something?”
“A dive bar?”
“Sure. You know, the whole Portland hipster scene. Everyone’s into those little hole-in-the-wall places with greasy food and cheap beer and a lot of single people looking to hook up.”
She raises one eyebrow. “You make it sound so sexy.”
