Page 100 of Bad at Love
“Yeah, supposedly. And I know I can do it on my own and it’s not just about the moral support, I just really want you to see him, meet him, when he’s sober.”
“I’ve met your father before, Marina. Sober. I know he’s a good man, you don’t have to try and prove anything to me.”
“I know but…” I trail off.
He squeezes my hand. “I’ll come. For sure.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Did you know that bees,ants and ravens are the only species, other than humans, that can communicate time and distance to each other?”
Laz’s brows twitch. “You’re nervous.”
“Because I’m talking about bees?”
“Yes. It’s a tell of yours. Like, if I was a detective interrogating you, that would be one of your tells. I’d ask you if it was you that robbed the bank and you’d tell me that when the worker bees kill the queen, they basically cuddle her to death.”
“It’s also called a murder ball,” I tell him, impressed that he remembered that fact. We’re sitting in his car, waiting outside P.F. Changs in a mall parking lot. We’re early to meet my father and Margaret, which, yes, has given me plenty of time to be nervous. “Do I have any other tells?”
“Well I know the ones when you’re nervous. Not sure if that always means you’re lying.”
“I never lie.”
“Bullshit.” His mouth curves into a bemused smile. “You lied just then. I saw your tell.”
“Which is?”
“You press your lips together afterward. Like you’re trying not to smile.”
He’s probably right. When I do lie, I often feel like laughing, like I never think I’ll pull it off.
“So, what’s my tell?” he asks.
I study him for a moment. His strong jaw, those lips that bring me to another place, those dark, arched expressive brows that tell me everything and the moody, intense eyes underneath.
I smile.
“What?” he asks, frowning.
“I just like looking at your face,” I say, feeling a rush of love for him flow through me. “It’s a good face. The best face. But I can’t tell your tell, you have to lie about something.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, thinking it over. “I absolutely do not want to fuck you right here in this car in this parking lot.’
I laugh. “Fine. I guess that works. I’d say then that your tell is that you don’t blink when you lie. Your gaze intensifies.”
He mulls that over, tapping his fingers on his chin as he eyes himself in the rearview mirror. “Hmmm.”
“By the way, I’m totally down for some car fucking right now,” I tell him, putting my hand behind his neck and pulling him toward me, marveling thatholy shit,I can do this. I can touch him and kiss him and fuck him in his car because he’smine. “Or anytime really.”
He raises a brow. “Is that so?”
“Mmm hmmm,” I say as he leans in and kisses me.
My heart trips, picks itself up, soars. Like the mere act of his lips pressing against mine can jolt my heart, bring me back to life.
“Isn’t that your dad?” he asks against my mouth.
