Page 40 of Flirtasaurus
“Put ’em here.”
He sits on the floor in front of me, pats his lap, and reaches out his hand.
“Uhhhhh. Put ’em where now?”
“Here. In my hand.”
What the hell is happening right now?
Before I can second-guess myself, I slip my foot into his waiting hand. It’s warm and cozy and the tiniest bit rough. He takes the fingers of his opposite hand and taps them gently against my toes as if he’s playing a slow, gentle song over piano keys.
Be cooooool. Act like this sort of thing happens to you all the time.
“That hurt?” he asks, his voice sounding a bit softer and raspier than usual.
“Nope,” I breathe.
“Yeah, you may have a bit of bruising tomorrow, but it seems you’ll be just fine.”
“Cool. Thanks, doc.”
I figure we’re done, so I move to pull my foot away, but he responds by cupping both of his warm hands around it and—good lord above—he starts to massage it.
“What are you…?”
“Is this okay?”
“Um. Yeah. That’s… yeahhhhh.”
My head tips back, and my eyes fall closed, which is surprising.
When I look back up, he’s watching my foot while he massages it, like he’s looking directly into my foot’s eyes. My foot eyes. The, uh—the eye of my foot. Damn, the beer is getting to me. I’m a lightweight on a usual day—much to my embarrassment—but on a day like today when I’ve only had a breakfast sandwich and a string cheese? Yeah, on a day like today, I’m hopeless.
“So. What would you be doing right now if you weren’t fraternizing with the sexy astronomer at your new place of employment?”
“Whoa. Hello, confidence!”
“Yeah, you’re right. That felt really weird to say.”
“No, it’s not that I disagree. I was just surprised that you would… because you’re totally… I mean, I’m sure most people would agree that—”
Don’t be the girl who babbles and interrupts herself, Calliope. It’s weak.
“Um. Anyway. To answer your question, if I weren’t fraternizing with you… oh, sidebar: do you know if we’re allowed to fraternize?”
“Huh. I think so?”
“The contract is nebulous at best, right? Though, in fairness, I only skimmed it on the stairway up here because your nuggets became very distracting and…” There I go, interrupting myself again. “I’ll look into it further and let you know, okay? Stay tuned, soldier.”
“Okay.” He salutes.
“For now, I think we can both agree it’s best to be on the safe side and keep this little dalliance between you and me, yeah?”
“Would you call this a dalliance, though? We haven’t exactly dallied.”
I choose to ignore that question and plow ahead to the one I can actually answer.
“On a typical night with no astronomer fraternization, I would most likely be sitting on my thrift store couch, drinking Yoo-hoo and watchingFriendswhile working on my laptop.”
