it will all fall apart.”
He looked dazed, as if he’d been hit around the head with a heavy object. “Frankie—”
“Let’s just forget we ever had this conversation.”
“So you won’t have dinner with me because you think dinner might lead to sex, which would lead to a relationship, which would end.” He said it slowly, as if he was trying to make sense of it.
“That’s right.” Her stress levels were in the red so she was relieved that finally he seemed to understand. “Now can we—”
“Not every relationship ends, Frankie, and even if it did I can one hundred percent guarantee that your home and your security would never be affected by anything that happened between the two of us.” He jammed his fingers into his hair. “I sound like a mortgage broker.”
“You’d have sex with me, you’d give me a D minus with nothing for effort, then it would be awkward and I’d have to move.” The words fell out of her mouth without her permission and she froze in mortified horror.
Had she really just said that? Normally her problem was opening up to guys, not closing herself down. The last person she’d dated had said that getting personal information from her was like trying to break into a vault, and yet here she was gushing like a waterfall after heavy rain, spilling secrets she’d never shared with anyone.
Maybe he hadn’t heard her.
Please don’t let him have heard me.
His stunned silence told her that her prayers were going unanswered.
She stared at the floor, appalled. Her face was hot, and the heat had nothing to do with the weather.
How did she dig her way out of this one?
She’d ignore it and hope he would ignore it, too.
“I love my home and I don’t want to move,” she said quickly. “So there’s no way I would have sex with you, which means dinner is also out of the question.”
“Who told you that you were a D minus?”
Oh God.
She wanted to die. Really fast. Right now.
“Forget it. It’s not—”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t want to talk about it! Let’s just say I wasn’t top of the class. I bet you’d score straight As, so let’s just forget it and move on.” Could it get any worse? Her relationship with Matt was turning into the dance of the seven veils. Piece by piece, he was exposing her. First the glasses and now this. Soon she’d have nothing left to hide. She felt emotionally naked. “I don’t want to talk about it, but believe me when I say you don’t want to have sex with me. I’m flattered that you find me attractive, but the truth is that sex really isn’t my thing.”
“What do you mean, it’s not your thing?”
Did the guy never stop asking questions? “People are good at different things, aren’t they?” Her voice rose. “I’m brilliant with plants. Recognizing them, growing them, arranging them—all of it. I can cook well enough not to poison myself, I know enough about technology to fix my own laptop when it crashes and I’m a pretty good friend. Sex, I’m not good at.”
“Is that what he told you? The D minus guy?” His tone was grim. “If you feel as if you’re being graded then it’s no wonder you’re stressed about sex. It’s supposed to be about pleasure, not pressure.”
“Yeah, well, there you go.” She puffed her hair out of her eyes. “For me, it’s all pressure and no pleasure. And if the whole performance scoring isn’t enough, there’s the issue of the apartment.”
“Will you forget the damn apartment for five minutes?”
“No, I won’t! It’s my home. Do you have any idea how much I love living there?”
“I know how much you love it, Frankie.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. “No one is ever going to make you leave the apartment. It’s yours for as long as you want it, so can we separate that from this conversation?”
It seemed as if the only way to make him understand was to be blunt, which also required humiliating herself. “I won’t have sex with you, Matt. I’m not that into it. I’m not surprised he gave me that grade. And I’m not good with all the feeling, emotional stuff that goes with relationships. Unlike Eva, I’m not a feeling person. Now, can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about this any longer, and if you’re any sort of friend you’ll move to one side and pretend this conversation never