“Oh. Sorry.” Her face falls. She points to her ice cream, which is still nestled in the crook of her arm. “Are you sure you don’t want a spoon?”
I shake my head. “So, you’re okay?”
“Of course.” She leans back and says, “So do you want to talk about Shane’s dick some more?” She holds up her pinky finger and shows it to me. She starts to say something, but I grab her hand, push her finger down, and I lean over a few inches and press my lips to hers.
She freezes for a second, but then she kisses me back. Her mouth opens and her tongue touches mine. She’s tentative at first, but my blood surges in my head and in all my other body parts all at one time.
She pulls back first. In fact, she puts her hand against my chest and pushes. “Whoa,” she says. She licks her lips, sticks her ladle into the ice cream container, and sets it on the coffee table. “Why did you do that?” she cries. “Besties don’t kiss!”
I swipe a hand down my face. “Sorry, but I don’t want to be your bestie.”
“You don’t?”
“And I don’t want to talk about the size of anybody’s dick.”
“Okay…”
“And I don’t want to let you think I’m not interested.”
“Interested.”
“Interested.”
“In what?”
“In you!”
“Why?”
I run my hand through my hair. “Why what?”
“Why are you interested in me?”
“Because you’re…you’re you, dammit. That’s all there is to it.”
She snorts. “Me has never been enough to keep anyone interested, Mick.”
“Maybe you should let me decide if I’m interested or not.” I tweak the end of her nose. “How about that?”
She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry. I gave you the completely wrong impression.”
I sit back. “Wrong?”
“I just got out of a shit-tastic relationship. I’m not ready for anything new!”
“Well, get ready, Wren.”
She jumps to her feet. “You have to go. Get out.”
I stand up, thoroughly confused.
She shoves my shoulder. “Out. Now. Out. Go.”
“Are you angry?”
“No,” she says on a sigh. “I’m confused. And maybe a little irritated, but not angry.”
“What’s the difference between irritated and angry?” I ask.