Page 46 of Bad at Love
Then I stop myself. Today it’s not Laz coming over but his alter-ego, Carl McNaughty, back for date number two, and if I’ve learned something from our night at the comedy club, it’s that Marina can talk about bees and scientific facts about walking barefoot all she wants with Laz but she can’t with Carl or whatever Joe Blow I’ll be dating in the future. Marina should also refrain from talking about herself in the third person.
I sigh. This whole thing is both fun and frustrating. The entire date, I kept looking at Laz and wondering why the hell I was doing this with him? Meaning, why did he have to pretend to be someone else? Why did I have to pretend to be someone else? I mean, I may not have had a fake name (I do today, because why should he have all the fun), but I still couldn’t act like myself. Why couldn’t we just…
I don’t want to think about it. I keep wanting to think about it. It keeps pressing at the back of my head, like it’s looking for a way inside, and I keep putting up the internal walls and barricades to stop it. I don’t want to indulge that part of me because it’s getting trickier and more dangerous by the minute.
All the years I’ve known Laz, I’ve put my feelings for him to the side until I convinced myself there were no feelings at all. I’ve told myself over and over again that whatever things I’ve felt, whether it be jealousy, attraction and lust, hell, even enough desire that I’ve brought out my vibrator more than once, that it wasn’t based in anything. I’ve actively worked hard to see Laz as a friend and just a friend,all the while it would have been so incredibly easy to just give in and just admit to myself that I want him.
Not just as a friend, though. Not even close.
That’s probably why I’m so all over the place. Part of me wants him to teach me how to seduce men, only just for the chance that I can actually seduce him or vice versa. The other part of me is terrified of the idea—like him kissing me, touching me—because I think, Iknow, the moment he does that, every single thing is going to change.
Everything.
Naomi was right. It doesn’t make sense for Laz to do this. We don’t have to pretend to date each other. He could just give me a few pointers. I mean, I learned enough about how I am on a date the first time that there’s really zero need for a second one.
I think he knows that too. He must. Why else would he be doing this?
Because he feels sorry for you,I remind myself. Sure sometimes I think I catch this darkness in Laz’s eyes, like he’s looking at me with some sort of raw lust. But at this point, I’m pretty sure that’s just Laz and how he is. He’s brooding. He’s in his head a lot. I never know what that guy is thinking but I’m pretty sure he’s not thinking of me sexually whatsoever.
Yeah, sometimes he says really sweet things, even romantic at times. But he’s a poet, it’s pretty much his job. I’ve seen him charm the pants off the old ladies at the grocery store too.
Which is the way it’s supposed to be. Which means I need to get my head on straight and keep doing what I’m doing, filing all those unwarranted feelings away and getting back on the friendship train.
A couple of hours later, I have both bee suits out on thelawn and am sitting cross-legged on the grass, inspecting them for any tears or holes when Laz pokes his head over the side gate.
I smile at the sight of him, as I always do. Instant reflex.
But these butterflies in my stomach…that’s fucking new.
And frightening.
Get the hell outta here, butterflies.
“Hey,” he calls out. “It’s Carl. Carl McNaughty from the other night.”
The playful tone of his voice causes my stomach to flip like a gymnast. This is not off to a good start.
“Hi Carl,” I tell him, giving him a quick wave and turning my attention back to the suits. Much safer this way. “Come on in.”
I pretend to concentrate on them way more than I should, so that he’s standing above me for a few moments before I finally look up, squinting into the sun. At least it gave me some time to gather up my wits. “Oh, by the way,” I tell him. “My name is Regina Phalange.”
He grins, running his fingers down the sexy stubble on his jaw.
Sexy? Stop that right now.
“Of course your name is Regina Phalange,” he says. He gets myFriendsreferences like no one else does.
He gets everything like no one else does.
STOP IT YOU CRAZY BEE LADY.
I clear my throat, wishing I could dispel the nervous energy that’s building up inside me again. “So are you ready for Candyman?”
He laughs. “It doesn’t help that you call it that.”
“Hey you started it,” I tell him, getting to my knees and he reaches down to grab my arms and pull me up the rest of the way. I’d like to say I didn’t notice the spark of electricitybetween his palms on my skin, or how large and firm his hands are…but I would be lying.
Laz has touched me like that a million times before and I never paid it much attention but now my body is honing in on everything. Suddenly, I’m extremely grateful for the bee suit. It will keep me safe from the beesandfrom any accidental arousal.
