Page 47 of Clinically Awkward

“What?”

“How you’re single.”

He laughed, the sound a little rough. “We’ve been over this. The marriage trap.”

“No, I mean—” I turned to face him, tucking one leg under me and nearly losing my balance. He caught my elbow, steadying me, and we both laughed. “I mean, you’re smart. You’re funny. You actually listen when people talk. You notice things.” I gestured at him with my shot glass, sloshing a little tequila. “You’re basically perfect boyfriend material.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s the highest compliment.”

He poured us another round, concentrating harder than necessary. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right person.”

“Or maybe you’re scared.”

His eyes met mine. “Maybe.”

The honesty in that single word made my breath catch.

We took the shot.

“Your turn,” I said. “What don’t you get?”

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers playing with the empty shot glass. Then he said, “Why you’re with him.”

“My boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

I should’ve been defensive. Should’ve made excuses. Should’ve changed the subject. Instead, I said, “I don’t know anymore.” His hand found mine on the couch. Just his fingers brushing against my knuckles, but I felt it everywhere.

“You deserve better than someone who talks about his car for forty-five minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His thumb traced a slow circle on the back of my hand. “You deserve someone who wants to know everything about you. What makes you laugh? What pisses you off? What you’re thinking about at three in the morning when you can’t sleep.”

My heart was pounding. “And what do I think about at three in the morning?”

“I don’t know yet.” His voice was lower now, rougher. “But I’d like to find out.”

The air between us felt electric.

Charged.

Dangerous.

I should’ve pulled my hand away. Should’ve made a joke. Should’ve remembered that this was Quinton, my friend, my coworker, and that I had a boyfriend. Instead, I leaned closer. “What else would you want to know?”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Everything.”

“That’s a lot.”

“I’ve got time.”

We were so close now. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that if I just leaned in a few more inches—“Viv,” he said, and my name on his lips sounded like a prayer and a warning all at once.

“Yeah?”