Chapter 11
Nadine
I keep waiting for things to turn weird with James and me.
I was braced for it this morning when we bickered over whether or not he used my towel again.
(He did. I totally know he did.)
I waited for it while he gamely sang along to my Taylor Swift album with me on the way to work.
I waited for it on the way home while I listened to him rant and rave about how his most recent work project had been put on hold because the funding had been applied to a higher priority project that he thought was “complete and utter bullshit.”
But by the time he helps himself to the chicken Parmesan I made for dinner, deliberately ignoring the salad, my fear has all but subsided.
Maybe we really can do this. Because, so far, the looming naked time hasn’t done crap to rattle our friendship.
Now, granted, we haven’t exactly seen each other’s nether bits yet. That will be the true test.
I sneak a peek at the clock. Seven fifteen.
Forty-five minutes.
I wait for nervousness or second thoughts to settle in.
Waiting…
Waiting…
Nope. I’m pretty damn excited for this. My lady parts are in need.
“Hey, you wanna go to karaoke on Friday?” he asks.
“Oh, right,” I say, using my fingers to pick up a long string of mozzarella cheese and plop it into my mouth as I settle at the kitchen table. “Mika mentioned it. Some new place that Quinito found?”
“I don’t know that it’ll be any Cody’s,” James says, referring to our favorite karaoke bar from college. “But I’m game if you are.”
I shrug. “I’m in.”
I love karaoke. I love singing in general, really.
James sits down at the table across from me, shoveling a huge bite of chicken into his mouth. He washes it down with a swallow of beer and then leans back in his chair. “Hey, has Mika said anything about me?”
I glance up at him in surprise. “What, you mean like she wants to meet you under the bleachers after study hall?”
“You know what I mean. I was getting…vibes from her at lunch today.”
I slowly chew my mouthful of salad and then swallow. “Well…she wants to jump your bones, if that’s what you mean.”
He lifts his T-shirt, revealing perfect abs. “Right?” he says. “Who doesn’t? But no, I mean…never mind.”
“What?” I ask, tilting my head.
“I was just curious if you told her about you and me, and our…arrangement.”
“Nope,” I say emphatically, “I was kind of thinking we could keep that quiet. You know, so people don’t start making weird assumptions.”
“Agreed,” he says quickly. “It’s just…I get the feeling she wishes I’d ask her out or something. Maybe I’m being a conceited ass. It’s probably nothing.”
I glance down at my plate. It’s not nothing. His instincts are dead-on.
I feel a little stab of guilt.
