“It was either I came here, or I listened to my best friend talk about how excited he is to marry his fiancee. You seemed like a safer bet.” I twist pasta onto my fork again and spear another piece of shrimp.

Good shit.

“I imagine it’s hard for you to keep friends when you have no filter.” She says, taking a pull from her beer and digging into her own food.

“I have an amazing filter. Just don’t see a need for it with you.”

“And why am I special?”

“You want the PG version?” I tease, getting up to grab another bottle. I switch hers out too, dropping the empty ones in the recycling bin.

“What’d you bring for dessert?” She changes the topic, and I shake my head because I can’t take her seriously with this white paper thing on her face.

“Chocolate eclairs. What is that thing and why won’t you take it off?”

“What thing?” She opens her lips gingerly, popping a small piece of garlic bread in.

“I don’t know, the conspicuous white sheet on your face?”

“A sheet mask. And I have 5 more minutes left, so leave me alone about it.”

“What does it do?”

“Saves lives and cures cancer.” She says easily, her lips curving.

“Okay, what does it do when it’s not being a superhero?”

“Gives my skin a little extra love, relaxes me. Usually…when I can enjoy a quiet night alone, uninterrupted by former NFL players.”

“Sounds boring. How relaxing can it really be if it’s not giving you orgasms?” She chokes a little on a swallow and I start laughing. She joins in after she’s finished hacking.

“I might hate you a little.” But she’s fighting a smile.

“Better than love.” I stab another shrimp. “You got another of those things?”

* * *

“I don’t feel magically relaxed.” I’m resting my head on her couch cushions and sitting on the floor, eyes closed. “How long does that effect take to kick in?”

“Maybe if you shut up, you’d get there.” She ditched her sheet mask (that’s actually what it’s called) and now she has some pink stuff on her face. Said it was a yogurt mask.

I don’t know why one person would need so many masks.

“I feel like we should bask in this together.” I pat the floor next to me blindly. “Get down here.”

“Next, you’re going to tell me you want to see what it’s like to have your nails painted.” I feel her settle next to me.

“Been there, done that.” I murmur. She’s still in nothing but the long shirt she was in when she initially opened the door. I imagine it’s ridden up some with her being on the floor. “You talked to your guy yet?”

“No.”

“If you’re not together, what are you stalling for? Shouldn’t be that hard if feelings aren’t involved.”

“I never said feelings weren’t involved. On his part, anyway.”

“But not on your part?”

“I don’t know.” She breathes. “I’m conflicted right now.”

“Why?” I lift my head, peeking one eye open through the surprisingly roomy eyeholes of the mask. “I’m good at working through issues. Of other people.”

“I was leaning towards giving him what he wants until you came into the picture, if we’re being real.”

“A little birdie told me you’re not about being fake, so I would hope so.”

“I don’t know what I want right now. Not completely. I mean, I kind of know but it would cause problems so now I don’t know because I really don’t want to make the wrong decision.”

“Do you want me?” I turn to face her and realize just how ridiculous it is that we’re having this conversation with this shit on our faces.

She pauses for a small second. “Yes.”

“Do you want him, or do you want what he represents?”

“What does he represent?”

“Everything we don’t,” I answer quietly, keeping my eyes on hers. When her face shutters slightly, I know I’m not completely off base.

Damage recognizes damage.

“I think both.” She admits, swearing lightly and standing. I let her leave, and relax back on the couch again.

I hear water running, and when my alarm goes off, I peel off the mask and get up to toss it in the trash. I pass a mirror above a table.

“Huh, so this is what people mean when they say they’re glowing.” I turn my face in the mirror. Even my stubble is soft.

I’ll be damned.

“Why do you avoid relationships?” I turn towards Mickey’s voice and she’s leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

I shrug lightly. “They’re messy. You get yourself wrapped up in someone else and you lose yourself. I don’t need that. I’m lost enough.” Self-depreciation is my favorite.

“You don’t ever want more? Never think about picking one person? You don’t get tired of not having a deeper connection?” She asks.

I walk towards her and stop when I’m right in front of her, close enough to see the beauty mark above her left eye.

“You asking for me, or for you?” She looks away, then turns to me again, green eyes flickering with unease.

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me what you do know.”

“I know you said you don’t chase women, but you’re here when I haven’t accepted your offer yet.” She uncrosses her arms, tipping her chin up. “And I know you give just enough candidness to hide the things you really don’t want to talk about.”

“You learn that trick from your own therapist?” If my words come out a little more biting than usual, she’s not phased.

“I don’t think we’d be good for each other.” Her forehead creases. “You’re the type of man I’m supposed to have grown out of by now.”

“Says who?”

“People.” I watch her twist her shirt in her hands, and I grab one, twining my fingers with hers and raising it against the wall above her head.

“Guess who matters right now?” I lean close to her hair and breathe in her warmth.

“Who?” She whispers, chest rising.

“Us.” I take her hand in mine and raise it to the other, pressing her against the wall with my body so she has to rise on her toes. “This is about you and me right now. Nobody else.”

“I wish that were true.” I let her get the words out, but then I mold my lips to hers, nipping and licking at her mouth to show her without words, a taste of how good we’d be together.

A little persuasion isn’t chasing.

She pulls her mouth away far too soon, gasping against my lips. “We…I can’t do this. I want you, god do I want you…but not at the expense of hurting a good man.”

I release her hands and step away, knowing when it’s time to give things space. I swipe a thumb over her lips softly, taking the shine of our kiss away.

“Call me when you stop trying to be something you’re not.”

I head for the door, but her quiet words make me pause with my hand on the knob.

“And you call me when you do the same.” I inhale and open the door without a second glance.

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

And I left my goddamned chocolate eclairs.