“If I knew, I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to follow you out here, would I?” “What do you mean, why? Isn’t it obvious?” I put my hand up so he’ll shut his gorgeous face. “The guys decided that for the rest of the night, you’re not allowed-” “I’m sorry, what?” My voice raises a few octaves above my normal tone. “The guys decided that for the rest of the night, you’re not allowed back in the house.” Nothing good comes from sentences that begin with, ‘It’s nothing personal’, which is just a generic form of ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’
“So, I’m just going to throw it down, all right? It’s nothing personal.” Claps his hands together like two giant cymbals, the noise echoing in the quiet yard. His nose dips down, those brawny arms uncrossing, the cords in his forearms stretching. “Don’t tell me-you can’t resist a fuzzy brown sweater?” I try for brave and nonchalant, but my nerves betray me and my voice quivers. “What’s up? Did you see me across the room and decided I was irresistible? You just had to talk to me?” Haha. What I imagine a powerful baseball player stance to be, except without the uniform or glove. This guy is tall-good and tall-legs spread slightly, bulky arms crossed defensively. He continues staring me down, wordlessly. He studies me under the porch lights, silently crossing his arms, a beer clutched in one huge hand. “And doesn’t this feel amazing? I was dying in there.” “So…we’re outside.” I take the jacket out of my tote and slide both arms into it, zipping the front with a satisfying whirr.
I breathe it in then out with a sigh of relief.
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