Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Stop it, I admonished myself. You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with someone who doesn’t expect you to be perfect and would never make you feel bad.
Dash leaned over the tray and inhaled. “God, that smells good. My mouth is watering. But that always happens when I’m around you.”
I smiled. “Oh really?”
“I meant at your house,” he said quickly. “When you’re cooking.”
Ignoring the butterflies in my stomach, I concentrated on plating our dinners. When I turned around, it was obvious he’d been staring at my ass. He quickly raised his eyes to mine, but his guilty expression gave him away.
“Everything’s ready,” I said, grabbing the beer he’d opened for me from the counter. “Let’s eat.”
“So? What did you think?” I asked after the final scene of When Harry Met Sally concluded, and Harry Connick, Jr. was crooning my dad’s favorite tune over the credits.
“Fucking delicious. The best sandwich I have ever had.”
“Dash!” I poked his leg with my foot. “I meant the movie, not the food.”
“I liked it. That was way better than Titanic,” he informed me. “You should have led with that one.”
“It’s not way better, it’s just different. And if you’re trying to improve your range as an actor, I feel like it’s necessary to study a variety of performances.”
“Okay, fine.”
“So what was your favorite part?”
He thought for a moment, rubbing a finger beneath his lower lip. “There were a lot of good scenes with just the two of them. The dialogue was great, the back and forth. What about you?”
“Well, I love the last scene, where he runs through the street on New Year’s Eve and shows up at the party to tell her he loves her, but it’s not good enough until he lists all the things he loves about her. It just shows how well he knows her, and that all her little quirks are lovable to him.”
Dash nodded. “Perfect ending, I agree.”
“But I really love the scene where she fakes the orgasm at the diner. I wish someone would do that at Moe’s. I’ve always wanted to name a special ‘What She’s Having,’ but my mother won’t let me.”
He grinned. “What would it be?”
“Good question. I’ve thought about this a lot.”
“Have you?”
“Yes. See, what she’s actually eating during that scene looks like a very plain turkey sandwich, so I could either jazz that up, or I could do something with apple pie à la mode, which is what she orders in the beginning of the movie and makes it all complicated.”
“Is that what you’re like when you go to a restaurant?”
“Me?” I shrank back. “Hell no. I’m the least picky person at the table when I eat out.”
“Why? I’d have thought you’d have crazy high standards.”
“I do if I’m cooking or serving the food. If I’m just out for a good time, you can pretty much bring me whatever, and I’ll eat it. I’m a cheap date. My favorite thing ever is carnival food.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes! Funnel cakes, corn dogs, deep-fried whatever on a stick. Take my money and put it in my mouth.”
He laughed. “Good to know.”
“I just had an idea . . .” I tapped my lips with one finger. “You know what would be good? Some kind of twist on a corn dog with the Creole mustard I used in the eggs benny special today.” My mind wandered for a moment as I thought about flavors, textures, presentation.
“That does sound good.” He finished off his beer and set the bottle on the tray table, next to his empty plate. I was still thinking about carnival food when he spoke again. “So tell me something. Have you ever faked it with anyone?”
Surprised, I shrugged. “Sure.”
“Because the guy didn’t know what he was doing?”
“Right, but he thought he did, and it was obvious he was waiting for it to happen and just getting more frustrated by the minute—like it was my fault.”
Dash cringed. “That does not sound like a good time.”
“What, having sex with me?”
“No!” He thumped my shoulder. “Being with that dumbass you had to fake it with.”
“You already rejected me once, Dash. You can stop doing it now,” I teased.
“Listen, I rejected you for your own good.”
“Jerk!” I leaned over to give him a shove, and the next thing I knew, he tackled me, throwing me onto my back and pinning my arms above my head, his body sprawled over mine.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” he said, his voice deep and playful. “I thought we were never allowed to talk about it.”
“We’re not.” I squirmed beneath him, although I loved the heaviness of his weight on me. It was every bit as thrilling as sixteen-year-old me had imagined. “We’re supposed to forget it happened.”
“Impossible. I’ll never forget it.”
I stopped moving. His mouth hovered above mine in the semi-darkness, the silvery light of the TV screen illuminating one side of his face, leaving the other in shadow. “You won’t?”