“Fantastic,” I said, my mouth full. It was even better than her mom’s and that was saying something.
“Thanks.” We both ate and watched the movie, laughing at the same parts. I hadn’t seen this movie for years. Trish was a John Hughes fan. She only loved Nicholas Sparks more.
Everything was fabulous, and I was thrilled I didn’t have to lie and pretend I liked it. I would have, but I was glad I didn’t have to.
The rum made me warm and relaxed, and hearing Katie’s laughter made everything even better.
She made everything better. Food, music, kissing. Hell, she made breathing better because every time I breathed, I got a little bit of her scent.
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and found she was doing the same thing. We both looked away and put our attention back on our plates.
No girl had ever done something like this for me. Not even close. I still didn’t know how I should react. Did this mean she had feelings feelings for me? Yes, she’d said it was about more than the sex, but how much more?
I’d never been this fucking neurotic about a girl and it was freaking me out. She shifted and her leg brushed against mine.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine.”
She was still wearing the apron and I had to stop myself from picturing her wearing that and nothing else.
I cleared my throat and took a sip of rum, but I choked on it.
“You okay there?” she said, raising her hand to bang me on the back.
I waved her off. “Yeah, fine.”
She must have thought I was being a moron because I was drunk.
Katie
What the hell was wrong with me? Just sitting next to him on the couch was proving to be more difficult than I thought. I’d always taken it for granted that when I wanted to have sex with him, we’d just do it.
Holding off was hard. I couldn’t help but notice how the tattoos on his arm flexed when he moved his fork, or how his hair was different, swept to the sides of his face. His leg brushed mine, sending chills up and down my spine.
I tried to watch the movie, but I kept catching myself looking at him instead. It was shocking to think that I hadn’t thought he was attractive when I’d first met him, even after he took off the stupid fangs.
Now I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to stare at him all night. This realization made me blush with embarrassment, as if I’d said it out loud.
“You did a good job with the turkeys,” I said, pointing my fork at one he’d taped to the door. He’d drawn it with an eye patch, and the one taped to the window behind the television was winking.
“What’s that one supposed to be?” It had hollow dead-looking eyes and a gaping beak.
“Zombie turkey,” he said, as if it was obvious.
“Got it.” Now that I thought about it, zombie was the most obvious conclusion. “Oh my God!”
“What?” He put down his fork as if I’d seen a robber and he was getting ready to protect me.
“We forgot to say what we’re thankful for. Shit, I can’t believe I left that out.” I blamed the rum. And him. It was totally his fault for being so…him.
“It’s not too late. We haven’t had the pie yet.” I’d been a slacker and bought a frozen pie, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Do you want me to go first?”
“If you want me to.”
He poured some more rum into his glass and took a sip.
“I’m thankful for music and art and friends who stand by me even when I screw things up and Trish and broken cars that I get to fix and tricky equations I get to solve and that everyone I care about is healthy and for a girl who wears too much pink, doesn’t take no for an answer and tells me that it isn’t just about the sex.”
He took another sip of rum and I blushed at the end of his speech. I hadn’t blushed at something in a long, long time.
“How can I follow that?”
“I’m sure you’ll do okay,” he said, patting my knee. His hand lingered for just a second before he moved it.
“Okay, I’m also thankful for friends who stand by me even when I screw things up and also pink and roommates and my sister and my