"What's your favorite?"
"You're holding it."
"Uh-uh. I can't borrow this. That's way too much pressure."
"You'd be doing me a favor if you ruined it. I'd have an excuse to upgrade to a signed copy."
"Why haven't you?"
"Just haven't."
I hold the book to my chest. This is a lot of pressure. What if I lose his favorite book? What if I hate it? What if I fail to find the appeal? But I want to try. I want to love things. And hate them. I want to feel everything again, even when it hurts. I swallow hard. "You have a lot of CDs too."
He laughs. "My high school music taste on display."
I recognize some of the more popular metal and grunge bands. "I've seen worse."
"And I need help with my game?"
I nod. Though he doesn't. At all.
He tugs at my t-shirt. "You want to watch something?"
"Yeah." I scan the rows of sci-fi. There are too many options. "You're really into this stuff."
"Told you."
"You didn't say hi, I'm a sci-fi geek."
"Close enough." His voice is bright. Playful. "You in the mood for anything in particular?"
Too much. I swallow hard. "Something new."
Like this.
Liking him.
Wanting to hang out with my clothes on.
Wanting to learn his secrets.
Wanting to peel back the easy, breezy surfer boy mask and figure out exactly what makes him tick.
Chapter Fifteen
Iris
It feels way, way too good cuddling up on Walker's couch with a plateful of spicy curry and a classic science fiction film.
He teases me about stealing his chicken curry. I tease him about his messy eating. And lick chutney off his lips. And collapse into his arms for the rest of the movie.
I want to sleep here. In his bed. With my body pressed against his.
And that's a no go.
A hard pass.
An obvious trip to feelings-ville.