Page 80 of Definitely Not a Thing
Soft, and certain, hitting me right under the ribs.
Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I suppressed my grin – tried to, at least.
“I can’t get asameor something?!” Amelia huffed, eyebrow raised, making me laugh.
“Come on now,” I said, closing the distance I’d put between us after she reacted like she did to the kiss. “That’s not really a question, is it?”
“That isnota yes.”
“Yes, Amelia, damn. I will miss you. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Nigga. You are not Martin, and I’m not Gina, donotplay with me right now.”
“You not feeling the reference right now?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not – we’re having a very serious, very awkward conversation right now. I need you to lock in.”
“Bet. So… what’s the verdict?” I asked. “What’s our conclusion here?”
Amelia shrugged. “I… don’t know. I don’t want to not call a thing a thing, but… I’m not ready to call it a thing.”
“So we won’t then,” I said. “We’ll just… vibe.”
She looked at me for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. We’ll vibe.”
18/
amelia
I never should’ve admittedI was going to miss him.
It gave himwaytoo much power.
In the days since that conversation, he’d been evenmoreconfident, funnier, sexier,better in bed.
Not that I should know that last one, but… whatever.
We were grown.
And I was,waytoo quickly, approaching gone in the head.
Dangerous, when we’d very distinctly decided tonotdefine… this.
“Babe – you good?” Calvin asked, pulling my attention from a display of heirloom tomatoes atFresh.I didn’t even need tomatoes, but I grabbed a couple anyway, trying to cover the fact that I was zoned out.
“Yeah – these are gorgeous, right?”
I held up the tomatoes, ready to put them in the cart – top tier was mine, while he was using the bottom – but my smile must’ve been a little too plastered on.
Calvin’s eyes narrowed, and then he grinned at me. “Yeah – they’re nice. Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
The fact that you’re about to return to your “real” life as a professional athlete, with a demanding schedule, competitivestress, physical demands, insane travel, cameras and mics in your face, and women throwing themselves at you.
“A pizza, maybe?” I answered, putting the tomatoes in a little basket in the cart. “A few weeks ago, I had one what was heirloom tomato, basil, mozzarella – like a caprese pizza. Or would that just be a margherita?”
“Now you know damn well that’s not what I’m asking you,” he chuckled. “Seriously – what’s on your mind?”
