“But what if I’m exercising and I get hot so I have to take my shirt off and inadvertently show some skin?”
“I don’t see how that would be inadvertent.”
“Gleaming, sweaty skin,” he drawls. “I really do get overheated while exercising. Please consider my request.”
I think it over and sigh. He sort of has a point regarding getting hot while exercising. But he’s also sort of being the Lord of Mixed Signals.
And then he opens his mouth and says, “It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before anyway.”
“What? What are you talking about?” I ask. “I haven’t seen it all.”
“The other night you saw me without my shirt.”
“But that’s not it all.”
He lifts one shoulder. “Eh.”
I sigh. The man knows nothing.
“The upper body is usually the most interesting aesthetic part on most people,” he says. “Tattooing and other various activities has taught me that.”
I look to heaven. No help is forthcoming. “Let me guess, you’re a breast man? That’s where this idiocy is coming from.”
“Breasts are good.”
“So are thighs and asses and junk.”
The corner of his lip quirks in amusement like he’s gotten me to say a dirty word. Inside the heart of every man is a twelve-year-old boy. One who wants to talk smut and make fart jokes. And I’m reasonably certain that at least this time I didn’t start the sex talk. At least, not intentionally. Also he’s giving me a strange, speculative sort of look.
“What?” I ask.
“I was just thinking.”
God help me. “What?”
“You probably don’t want to hear it.”
“Okay.” This whole line of discussion feels beyond dangerous. “Shut up and watch the movie then.”
He holds his peace for all of approximately half a second. “I was just going to say that if you—”
“No,” I say, adamant. “You’re right, I don’t want to hear it. Because whatever comes out of your mouth next is guaranteed to make things even more awkward.”
“Yeah, but awkward is kind of what we do best.” He tilts his head, watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Think about it, young Anna. We’re always having strange little overly honest conversations. It’s refreshing. People clutter their talking up with so much nonsense these days. The cool thing to say. The smart thing to say. The polite thing to say. But never the honest and open thing. The thing that’s really on their mind. Why is that?”
“Probably because they don’t want to get hurt or hurt other people. They don’t want to look foolish or leave themselves open to being misconstrued,” I say. “I don’t know. Communication is tricky. There’s lots of ways it can go wrong.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“I think there’s a level of trust and understanding here between us that’s beautiful, is all.”
I have nothing. He’s right and it is beautiful. Our irreverent conversations far and away eclipse the conversations Ryan and I used to have. Maybe it’s a passing thing. Maybe Leif and I will drift apart. But right here, right now is something special. Though I’m still not going to tell him everything. There are plenty of thoughts that I don’t need to share. All the same, I can’t keep the happy off my face.
“Don’t you think?” he asks.
“Yes. I do.”
And he just smiles.
CHAPTER FIVE
There’s a sort of forced intimacy that comes with sharing a space with someone. For instance, Leif has a habit of walking from the bathroom to his bedroom post shower clad in only a towel. Then there’s the wandering in, dripping sweat and half naked, fresh from a run with Ed. Not to forget how rumpled and lost he looks first thing in the morning. I’ve taken to shoving a cup of coffee into his hand and forgoing all conversation for the first half an hour or until his brain has come online. It’s best for everyone.
None of this is helpful for my crush on him. But I can handle it. This crush is a bounce. It’s a distraction from everything happening in my life. It’s not serious. And I am not protesting too much. I’m just keeping things straight inside my head. Sometimes you need to have a stern talk to yourself. I seem to be doing this on an hourly basis. Let’s not question why.
It is, however, interesting noting how much more time Leif and I spend together as opposed to the life I had with Ryan. He was always off to the gym or working late. Something I’d grown accustomed to at the time. Though it kind of makes me wonder about how healthy our relationship was really. Guess the rose-colored glasses are well and truly off. But I’m not dwelling on Ryan either. I’m doing my exercises and rebuilding my life, which now includes working at the tattoo parlor. I’m getting my shit together. Romance and menfolk are nice and all; however, they’re by no means a necessity.