Page 72 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“Nope. I’ve been lucky to avoid serious injury up to this point.” She threw her arm back behind her to tap the bedside table. “Knock on wood.”
I laughed. “It’s definitely touch wood.”
“You British folk say things weird.”
“Says the girl from Long Island who asks for a pie when they actually want a pizza.”
“It’s a slice of pie!” We’d debated the same topic for ten minutes the day before.
“And I’m a turnip.”
Julia burst out laughing. “You’re crazy.”
“Right.” I leaped up and returned from the minibar with two shot glasses and a glass bottle of Fanta. It tasted so much better from a glass bottle.
“Are you ready for a quick-fire round?” I clinked the shot glasses together.
“Are you suggesting we shoot Fanta?” Julia laughed.
“Yes, it was this or the bottle of wine.” I was no wine connoisseur but shooting it seemed disrespectful to the wine gods. Maybe the wine god was a giant grape with a face and corks as feet. My mind wandered.
“Okay, do your worst, Fox.” Julia sat up, making no attempt to cover her breasts. My heart fluttered knowing she felt so comfortable. She accepted the glass, and I poured the first “shot”. “Wait, what are the rules?”
“If you don’t answer the question within five seconds, you take a shot.”
“What if I do answer it in five seconds? Surely, there has to be an incentive because my dislike for orange Fanta is not great enough to motivate me.”
“Maybe I should change it for orange juice.” I debated. “Okay, if you answer it in the time allocated, you get one free non-existent coin to use at the out of hours slot machine.” I was making it up as I went, but Julia seemed to be enjoying my creativity.
“I’m listening.”
I pulled at the sheet, so the weight fell over my shoulder to hold it in place. It was draped over me like a toga. I desperately wanted to attend a Roman-themed costume party; wearing a giant cloth with sandals seemed comfortable. It was fashion suicide but comfortable, and as I rapidly approached the age of thirty, I needed more comfort. Maybe I could throw a costume party. I was digressing.
“The slot machine provides multiple chances to win prizes in the form of sexual favours.” The confidence came from nowhere. My hands were trembling. My heart was racing. I fought every urge in my body to retreat. She made me confident. Julia made me feel seen, sexy, and secure enough in her presence that I could be anyone I wanted to be. She gave me all theSs, and she had no idea.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee.” It sounds like she sayscaw-fee, and suddenly her accent is my favourite of all accents.
“Morning or night?”
“Morning.”
“You could be anywhere tomorrow, where would you be?”
“Here, with you.”
Goddamn you. She was smooth.
“Okay, that answer deserves double coins.”
I counted out four with my fingers.
“Camping or glamping?”
“I don’t know what that second one is,” Julia admits.
