Page 44 of Challenge Me

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I picked up the plate. Beneath it, there was a napkin. My curiosity was piqued when I noticed he’d written something on it:

Roses are red,

Tortillas are round.

I burnt the first batch,

But this one’s kinda sound.

I’m no poet, just a hitter,

And I really hate to fight.

So if you aren’t too bitter,

Maybe go ahead and take a bite.

A laugh escaped me so suddenly that I covered my mouth. Even though I didn’t have an appetite, I pulled on a pair of sweats, then grabbed the plate and left the room.

Amir was on the balcony, lounging back in one of the chaises while he took a bite of his quesadilla. I walked outside, and he jumped a little. He barely glanced at me, which made me wonder if I was expected to explain. We were plenty old enough to handle it like adults, in my opinion.

I sat in the chair beside him and held up the napkin. “How long did this take you?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Like, three attempts.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Technically, your rhyme scheme collapsed halfway through. But hey, poetry’s about emotion, not just structure.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“For butchering the art of poetry? Nah.” I met his eyes before I looked out at the city. “For kissing me? No apology needed.”

“Since you clearly don’t want me to do that, we should define our boundaries.”

The way he jumped right in to address what had happened made me pause. “Sure, boundaries are . . . mature. And if that’s what we’re doing, I guess we should probably talk about the kiss.”

“You were upset I didn’t want to sleep with you.”

“Upset’s a strong word. And inaccurate, actually.”

He let out a breath. “This is awkward at this point.”

“I don’t feel awkward at all.” I waited until his gaze found mine. “What do you want, Amir?”

“Well, whatever you were doing in the shower, I’m . . .” His face scrunched a bit. “I’m down to do it for you.”

My eyes widened, but he kept talking before I could.

“If you only want something casual, I might be open to that.”

“Whoa,” I said, setting my plate on the side table. “Let’s take a step back.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip hard enough to indent it. “If you don’t want that either, that’s alright. I just thought . . .”

“What’d you think?”