Page 192 of Just for the Cameras
“Oh my God, Graydon, seriously, why are you so…horny?”
“Not horny, just obsessed with you.” I drag my fingers over her back, absorbing my words.
Because, yeah, I’m pretty obsessed, and it feels like it hit me out of nowhere.
Well, maybe that’s not the case. It’s been building, and I’ve been ignoring the feelings. But now that I’ve accepted them, I’m all in.
I kiss the top of her head again. “Is an obsession such a bad thing?”
“No,” she says softly. “As long as it’s okay for me to be obsessed as well. I don’t want to come off too needy.”
“Did you hear the tantrum I threw when you sat in a chair that wasn’t my lap?”
She laughs. “You said you weren’t throwing a fit.”
“It could have been worse. Not sure you’re aware how much of a fit I can really throw.”
“Something I would treasure seeing.”
“And yet you stopped me from chucking a chair.”
“It’s close quarters here, and throwing a chair is never safe. But if we were in an open field where no one could be harmed, and you decided to start stomping your foot and huffing in displeasure, then that’s something I for sure would want to see.”
“Why do I feel like you find pleasure in my discomfort?”
“I don’t know. You’re this big, grumpy guy, so seeing you act like a child is kind of funny.”
I tickle her side, causing her to laugh. “I see where your head’s at, Baker.”
“Hey, no tickling.” She squirms on top of me.
“You ticklish?”
“Yes, and unless you want a knee to your junk, I would refrain from tickling me.”
“Ouch. Noted.”
We pull into the harbor, the boat slowing and our time out on the sea coming to an end.
“I’m sad. I don’t want to leave.”
“Want me to ask them to go back out? I can.”
She shakes her head. “No, I know we need to get back. I’m just so comfortable.”
“So am I.”
“This has been such a wonderful date. Thank you, Graydon. You spoiled me. I’ve never been on a date like this.”
“Then clearly you haven’t been with the right people.”
“I’ve come to figure that out,” she says softly. After a few moments of silence, she asks, “Now that you’re going to be playing games on Sundays, when are you going to visit your mom?” She pauses for a second and then says, “And if that is too much of a personal question, I’m really sorry.”
“I’m an open book to you now,” I say. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“I just never want to push you too far.”
“You won’t,” I say. “And I’ll visit her on Mondays.”
