Page 148 of You've Got Hate Mail
It’s not.
Even if I suddenly feel more naked than I did even in the cellar yesterday.
“Tell her I invited you down for tea,” I blurt as he pulls his shirt on.
He shoots another look at the ceiling, and then back at me.
Our eyes connect, and I get another shiver.
Not the chilled kind this time though.
This is a pure heat shiver.
“Donotgo on the dating apps.”
There’s a commanding authority to his voice that I’d respond to regardless of what he might order me to do.
“I’ll take you to the bar,” he adds. “When you’re ready.”
“But you don’t date?”
He growls, kisses me hard, and heads for the door to the steps. “It’s not a date. No dating apps. Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow. Lock the door behind me.” And then he’s gone.
I flop back on my bed and smile at the ceiling as his footsteps join Lav’s upstairs.
He likes me.
He came down here to kiss me.
He brought condoms.
He doesn’t want me on the dating apps.
And he’s taking me on a date.
Not a date, I hear him say in my head.
Fine.
Fine.
It’s not a date. We’re notdating.
Maybe, just maybe, becomingthe Cheeky Beaverisn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened to my life.
It brought me here, didn’t it?
And maybe it’s not a date.
But whatever you want to call it, it feels pretty damn spectacular.
26
OBSESSION, ACTUALLY
Heath
Despite sleeping like shit—Iswear I hear Lav every fifteen minutes—I’m up half an hour early.
