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An unhappy rumble escapes; however, he says nothing.
Takes a moment to stroll his shirtless figure around territory in contemplation.
Which is fine by me.
Between this man’s abs and ass, I’ve got plenty to hold my interest.
“I see your clothes,” he begins upon his arrival at the bar beside me, “and am matching by allowing you a shopping spree to replace the ones you left behind during your last abrupt move.”
The thoughtfulness of the bet is hard to ignore.
While I don’t do handouts, the thought of this one counts for a lot.
“However, I’m also going to raise you.”
“Ballsy.”
“I win and you not only get naked, you will allow me to look at your résumé to see how it can be improved; therefore, increasing your chances to start the career we both know you belong building.”
Not one to be outdone is what leads me to countering, “I win and I get to strip you myself, have the shopping spree, and look at your very extensive comic collection as our next date.”
“Deal.”
Despite having more on the line now than before, I keep a cool demeanor and just beam brightly.
Afterall, this is my world.
He’s just poor little Nemo trying to convince me he’s a friend, not food.
His mistake.
“There are a number of creatures in here I could win with. For instance, there’s the green spotted pufferfish – who you have to be careful to avoid confusing with the simple green pufferfish – that labs sometimes use for genetics due to them having the same number of genes as humans.” I effortlessly point over his shoulder. “Then there’s the flame angelfish – that gorgeous hot little piece behind,” the gesture is repeated over my own right shoulder, “that in the wild lives a crazy harem lifestyle but for an aquarium shouldn’t be paired with more than two females,” my hand dramatically cups the side of my mouth, “probably for alimony reasons.” More laughter shaking his delicious torso has me anxious to deliver the kill. “But I’m gonna go with the kissing gourami aka the kissing fish in the main area aquarium.”
“You think you’re gonna impress me with fish that make out?”
“And there’s the kicker.” I saucily wink. “They’re not actually kissing.”
“What?”
“Yeah, they’re locking jaws and pushing each other around in the water, typically battling for territory.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“They’re flirting.”
“They’re fighting.”
“No.”
“One hundred percent.”
“That’s…” Befuddlement tumbles through his scrunching expression. “They aren’t…” His dumbfoundment deepens. “False advertisement!”
“Eh,” leaves me before girlish giggles. “People prefer a good love story over a good hate one any day.”
He meets my gleaming gaze with an agape expression. “I don’t…believe you.”
