Page 92 of Faking It Right
Ryker squinted at me as if he was trying to understand why someone would pay three million dollars for a banana duct-taped to a wall, equal parts concentration and existential crisis, as if staring hard enough might reveal the profound artistic statement hiding behind potassium and adhesive. “But you’re always…” He gestured with a confused noise. “You know.”
“Horny?” I guessed with a snort. “Sure, I have a healthy sex drive, but contrary to popular belief, I also appreciate a breather in between rounds to appreciate the other parts of intimacy.”
“Other parts?”
“The talking. The laughing. The quiet moments where we exist together. All that shit I’ve never wanted to do with anyone other than you.” I took his hand, tracing his knuckles with my thumb. “Look, I want us to last for the long haul. This relationship isn’t only about getting each other off, as amazing as that is. I’m serious about you, Ryker. Serious about us.”
Ryker’s shoulders, which had been halfway up to his ears, finally dropped. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet,” I said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “But we’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out. No rush.”
He blinked as if I had switched from speaking English to fluent Greek. His relief was colored by a healthy dose of confusion. “Are you saying you don’t want to?”
“Oh, I want to. I always want to. But I want other things, too. Like hearing about your day and arguing about what movie to watch. I want to fall asleep next to you, even when we haven’t had sex first.”
He laughed with a snort. “That’s surprisingly sweet for a horndog.”
I clutched my chest in mock offense. “Surprisingly? You wound me, snookums.”
That got a genuine laugh out of him. “Sorry. I guess I’m still adjusting to being your boyfriend.”
“Same,” I admitted. “But we’ll figure it out together. Now, are we ordering food or what? Because I wasn’t kidding about being hungry.”
Ryker’s smile reached his eyes this time. “Thai sounds like the perfect way to end this wild week.”
I picked up my phone again, feeling something warm settle in my chest as Ryker moved closer on the couch, the space between us disappearing as he leaned against my shoulder to peruse the menu. It was pointless when he always ordered the same thing, but I had no intention of discouraging him.
“You know,” he said, his tone lighter, “I think I like this side of you.”
“I’m glad, because you’re the only one who gets to see it.”
“I appreciate that.” He rested his head on my shoulder as I scrolled through the options. “And Harley?”
“Hmm?”
“I want this to work long-term, too.”
I savored the simple intimacy of the moment. “Good. Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Green curry for me, red for you?” I asked once I reached the end of the menu.
His body relaxed further against mine. “You know me too well.”
“Three years of friendship and a week of dating will do that,” I teased, placing our usual order with a few taps. “Food should be here in about twenty minutes.”
“Perfect.” Ryker stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a tantalizing sliver of skin that drew my attention. When he caught me looking, he blushed but didn’t pull his shirt down. Progress.
“So,” I said, setting my phone on the coffee table, “what should we do while we wait? Twenty minutes is just enough time for?—”
“A quickie,” Ryker interrupted with a knowing smirk.
I snorted at how on-brand that guess was for me. “Actually, I was going to suggest we refresh and get drinks.”
“Sure you were.” He stood up, looking more relaxed than he had since we’d arrived home. “But yes to your plan.”
We moved around our apartment with the easy familiarity of roommates who knew each other’s habits. After using the bathroom, I pulled two beers from the fridge while Ryker grabbed the silverware. The domesticity of it made my heart so happy that it started composing the literary equivalent of a greeting card written by someone who once skimmed a poem in high school and thought, “Yeah, I could write that romantic shit.”
By the time our food arrived, we had the coffee table set up with plates, napkins, and drinks. I tipped the delivery guy generously because I appreciated how damn hard they had it in a town full of cheap college kids who never learned enough math or manners to tip properly.
