Page 46 of Betting on the Boy Next Door
I take a deep breath because I need to get this “other thing” out before I lose my nerve. “All that stuff at the table? That was to sell the story.”
“What stuff?” He sounds confused.
“The flirting.”
“Can you be specific?”
“The . . . like, touching. And stuff.” It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.
“Fair, but I need examples so I can make sure I don’t cross any lines.”
By now we’re nearing the Grove, and I wish we were already home and this conversation was over. “Don’t whisper stuff in my ear, for example.”
“Not a go-to move of mine, honestly. No problem. What else?”
“Rubbing my neck.”
“Hmm. Too bad. Those muscles felt tense, and I could help, but that’s fine. I respect your boundary. What else?”
I’m distracted by the image of him massaging the stress out of my neck at the end of a long day, and I forget to answer.
“Sami?”
I blink. “Um, don’t do sexy lip touching.”
There’s a pause. “You think it’s sexy when I touch your lips?” His voice is very even.
This conversation is ridiculous. We had regular presentations in Pi Phi about setting physical boundaries and claiming our space, but no one ever tells you how awkward it feels.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Okay, what did you mean?”
There’s the faintest tremor in his voice, and I shoot a quick glance at him—quick enough to catch him smothering a smile.
“Ugh, Josh. You’re the worst.”
He bursts out laughing as he turns into the Grove. “You made it too easy, Lady Mantha. But for what it’s worth, if you want to grope my thighs, kiss my jaw, or taste me at any point, I do not object.”
My jaw drops. “That’s . . . you . . . we aren’t . . .”
He climbs out of the car, still laughing, and even when we part ways at our back fences, another laugh escapes him.
Ruby and Ava are watching the news when I walk in, and Ruby leans forward. “Hey. How’d it go?”
“Fine,” I growl, but I don’t stop because I need to make sure Josh gets my point. I zoom up the stairs and march out to my balcony. He’s already on his, forearms resting on the railing that faces mine, obviously expecting me.
“We are not dating, Josh. We are not flirting. We are just neighbors. Got it?”
“Sure, Sami.” He gives me a lazy smile. “I got it. Goodnight.” He straightens and disappears into his place.
I step into my room and close the sliding door as an alert on my phone goes off, the sound of a cash register notifying me I’ve gotten money. I swipe it open, and sure enough, there it is, as promised. He’s marked the transaction private, and the memo reads, “Five star performance.”
I stare at it for a minute until the screen goes dark, trying to figure out what’s making me anxious. It’s not the money. It’s . . .
I set my phone down and close my eyes, rubbing my temples as the answer dawns on me.
I’m not sure tonight was an act.
