Inviting Lucas over seemed like a reasonable idea at the time. Pizza and beer is harmless. Then I touched him. He touched me.
On the thigh.
Zing.
Zang.
Electricity.
It.
Right between my thighs. I swear, a touch from Lucas is like binge-watching porn with a set of brand new batteries in Sven. Okay, maybe not like the battery part. Regardless, it’s enough to have me squirming in my seat.
Then I called it a date. Stupid, girl. It’s been obvious the entire time we’re on a date. Were. Are? Hell, I don’t even know anymore. What I do know is I don’t want it to end. I’m having a blast with Lucas and haven’t been this relaxed since . . . well, I don’t know when. That’s sad. And pathetic.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
And that. He knows when I’m overthinking. He isn’t just my friend or my date, he’s my insightful friend and date.
“Do you have six toes?” I ask. Surely there’s something wrong with him. Not that having extra toes is a bad thing. Actually, they may be pretty freaking cool. I had a friend growing up with two webbed toes and while it didn’t mean jack to us growing up, it’s a perfect winner in a serious game of two truths and a lie. Imagine what having extra toes would mean in that game.
Coughing, Lucas looks at me like I’m crazy to ask him about his feet. I shrug. When he pulls into the guest spot next to my car and still hasn’t answered, I unbuckle myself and turn to him. “Well? Do you?”
“I have the standard five on each foot,” he declares with gusto.
“Proud of that I see.”
“Eh, it just makes me average. I was thinking, after your question, it’d be pretty cool to have an extra toe or two. I could win all kinds of trivia games.”
Staring at him, mouth agape, I don’t have an opportunity to respond when he quickly exits the truck. When my door opens, I turn to face him, eyes wide and a huge smile on my face. The giddiness is oozing from me, I can feel it. Lucas, on the other hand, is looking at me like I have three heads.
“Do you like trivia?” I ask, excitement and possibilities bubbling through me.
“Doesn’t everyone? This thing,” he says tapping his temple, “is not just for the books, baby. I’m full of useless information.”
“We need to go to trivia night. Not just at one place either, like hop bar to bar and win all the prizes. I’m pretty good with pop culture and food. Mostly reality television and tacos, but nonetheless, we’d rock at trivia night.” I’m amped just thinking of the possibilities. What can I say? I love a good competition.
Shaking his head, either in disbelief or acceptance, Lucas offers his hand to help me exit the truck. When I hop out and face him, yes, like a bunny, he’s laughing.
“I haven’t seen you this excited since Fred and Wilma.”
“Oh, this is more than that. This is an opportunity for epicness, Luke. Epic. Ness.”
Walking toward my apartment, I have a little extra pep in my step and all the exhaustion I had before dissipates the closer we get to the door. When I pull my key from my purse, a wave of nerves hits me. Jessi isn’t here. She mentioned going to a study group before we left today. Luke and I haven’t been alone in privacy since Portland.
Portland.
“I don’t mean to be a pest but I kind of have to take a piss, and if we stand on this stoop any longer, I’m going to have to water some plants.”
Laughing, I quickly open the door and motion him inside. While Lucas uses the restroom, I check the refrigerator to make sure we have beer and am relieved to see at least six bottles. Next, I grab the menu for my favorite pizza place from the menu drawer and walk into the living room. Yes, a menu drawer. What can I say? We like delivery.
“Sorry about that,” Lucas says as he throws himself on the couch next to me. “Did you order the pizza?”
“Nope. I was waiting on you. What’s your poison?” I ask, tossing the menu to his lap.
“I’m easy. Anything is good as long as there are no olives.”
Gasping, I throw my hand to my chest in mock horror. “No olives?”
“Nope. Can’t do it. I’m cool with them being on half, just not my half.”
“I’m teasing. I don’t like olives either. But I make up for it with jalapenos.”
Chuckling, he rises from the couch and walks to the kitchen. “I’m getting a beer while you order.”
Since I order pizza at least once a week, I have the pizza place on my favorites and quickly place an order for a large pizza, a large salad, and a piece of their cheesecake for dessert. When the call is over, I toss the phone on the table and follow Lucas into the kitchen to get a glass of wine.
As I stand in the entryway to the kitchen, I’m greeted with a sight I hope burns into my corneas for life. Lucas DeCosta bent over, his jeans tight across his ass, and his head in the fridge. Sweet peppers, he’s a sexy sonofabitch. Clearing my throat, Lucas jumps up from the refrigerator and smacks his head on the shelf, and I break out in giggles.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters, rubbing his head.
Slowly I walk toward him, stopping just inches from where he stands. Reaching up, I touch the red spot on his head, and he flinches before I make contact but relaxes when I lean in to his personal space and place my finger tip to his head.
“That may leave a mark.” My voice is a whisper. A husky whisper. What the hell?
“Chicks dig scars. Do you think it’ll scar?” His voice is just as husky, and my heart skips.
“I don’t think you’re that lucky.”
“Oh, baby, I’m lucky. But the question is, do you think scars are sexy?” he asks, taking a step toward me. We’re so close now. I can feel the heat of his skin, smell the citrus from his body.
Words escape me, and I nod, willing him to kiss me again. To place his hands on my hips, to tug me to him. I want to wrap my arms around his neck. My legs around his waist as he lifts me. God, I need him to do these things. I’m wound tight, my heartbeat is rapid, and my mouth is dry. My palms are cold. I’m nervous. This feels different. It’s as if everything will change if we kiss again. A third kiss. After a date.
Only he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he steps to the side and twists the top from his beer and says, “I thought you were going to change? Make this an official second date.”
A second date.
“I will. Give me five minutes. The pizza should be here any minute. Just answer the door, I already put it on my card,” I say, walking out of the kitchen and down the hall to my room.
The second date. That’s when more kissing can happen. There will be more kissing. For the first time in, well I don’t know how long, I’m excited and hopeful. Maybe this being friends and dating idea isn’t such a bad thing.