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I’ll never understand people’s discomfort with silence. Silence is my happy place. As soon as my order is up, I send her a quick smile of thanks and leave. Fast. I like people well enough, I just don’t like talking to them.
“What do you think your optimal state of stress and arousal is?” Foster’s eyes are wide, and he looks torn between laughing and … well, something that’s not laughing but seems equally offensive. “I think I might have just found it.” “Excuse me?” “Never mind. Look, I think we should put a pin in it tonight. Think about practice, but try to narrow it down to how each person behaved out there, rather than looking at the team as a whole.” I scowl. “Well, that’s not going to work.” “Why?” “Because I was only paying attention to you.”
“Yup. I like hearts not parts. Although, I think that’s technically the pan slogan.”
I honestly don’t know what I’m doing when I lean forward and press my lips to his.
“Mocking is cruel. Teasing makes you flustered, and you’re ridiculously cute when you’re flustered.”
“Umm … well, how do you, like, choose if you’re a top or a bottom?” “When the stars align with Uranus, there’s a celestial ceremony that fills us with light. If it shines out your ass, you’re a bottom. Mine kinda just flickered and died.”
I wish I could label myself as any hole’s a goal, but apparently that’s crass. Who knew?”
And for the first time ever, needing someone doesn’t feel like a weakness.
“To stop trying is to stop learning. Ignorance is the enemy of progress.”
Foster’s lips brush mine. “Say it.” And how can I not? How can I hold back something so big that it both confuses me and seems blindingly clear? “I love you too.” “Of course you do.” Foster’s lips find my ear. “But I loved you first.”
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
