STASSIE:No need I’ll get an Uber
NATE: That’s makes no sense. Let me pick you up.
STASSIE:You make no sense.
NATE: Only because you fucked my brains out.
STASSIE:Ffs
NATE: 3?
STASSIE:Yeah. Don’t be late! You’ve gotta take me straight home.
NATE: No shenanigans.
NATE: Scouts honor.
STASSIE:There’s no way you were a Boy Scout.
NATE: I was but I got kicked out.
STASSIE:Why?
NATE: I accidentally set Robbie on fire when we were 8 *fire emoji*
As promised, he’s waiting for me in the parking lot when I walk out of work at three p.m. on the dot.
“Hey, firestarter,” I tease, climbing into the passenger seat. He leans over and cups my face with his hand, greeting me with a toe-curling kiss that sends a shiver through my entire body.
I’m trying not to overthink it. I wouldn’t think anything if Ryan kissed me, and this man did filthy things to my body last night…and this morning. I probably shouldn’t be concerned about a little kiss.
“Hi,” he chirps, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the parking spot. “Speaking of starting fires, gimme your planner right now, Allen.”
I clutch my bag to my chest and bat his incoming hand away. “No. Why would you even joke?”
“Because that thing is ruining my week. Why are you so busy?” His hand settles on my thigh, momentarily distracting me. “What could you possibly be doing that means you don’t have any time for me?”
The thigh-holding I can deal with. I can’t deal with the patterns and the occasional squeeze. That shit is making my vagina scream and I’m not sure she’s ready for the consequences of being a horny, little slut…again.
“I don’t know, Nate. Maybe getting an education? Training so I get to fulfill my dream of being on the Olympic skating team? Chores? Meal prep? Working?” His fingers dig into my thigh playfully and I squirm in my seat. “You’ll see me before or after practice and I have Thursday evening free, that’s when I usually hoo—have time for friends.”
Don’t say hook up, Stassie.
“I suppose if it’s to support your lifelong dreams, I could probably find a way to be okay with it. When did you start having such a meticulously planned lifestyle?”
“When I was about nine.”
“Nine?!” he splutters. “You were a nine-year-old with a color-coded planner?”
“Not quite.” It’s hard to know when to start dropping the details of your life in a friendship. It’s not a secret, and it isn’t something I’m ashamed of, but still. “I can explain if you want me to, but it’s maybe a little deep for a Saturday afternoon.”
He squeezes my thigh again, looking over as we roll to a stop sign. He nods, encouraging me. “I’m good with deep.” His eyes press shut. “Not like that.”
Trust me, I know, but that’s a very, very different conversation.
Focus, Anastasia.
“Okay, so I’ve always known I was adopted. My parents are super-loving people. They’ve always wanted the best for me.”Good start. “They put me in every extracurricular activity because they wanted to give me the best opportunities. I started skating and I was advanced, and I kept being more advanced until someone realized, okay, she’s a figure skater.”