Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,11

the crux.

Bleu was nothing like any of the women I’d been with—at least not in years. I may have only known her for barely over a day, but I knew that without a doubt.

“Think maybe we could do this again?” I asked, trying my best to sound off-the-cuff.

“Um, I don’t know. I mean, I had a good time today—well, except for the third-degree from your mom,” she said with a smirk.

“Sorry about that. So was that a game ender? Please don’t tell me you’re going to hold my mom’s interrogation techniques against me,” I said and gave her my best smile. The one that usually got me anything I wanted.

“It’s not that. I’m just not looking for a relationship right now. Especially with someone like you,” she said with an apologetic lift of one side of her lips. My teeth clenched at how she was stereotyping me. Biting my lip to keep my mouth shut, I closed her door and rounded the hood. Once I’d slipped behind the wheel and we were heading toward her house, I made one last effort.

“What if we were just friends?” I asked as I kept my eyes on the road.

“What?” she asked in a surprised tone. Risking taking my eyes from the road, I cast a quick glance her direction.

“Friends?” I asked.

“A man and a woman can’t be just friends,” she muttered.

“You’re friends with Sergio,” I argued, trying to keep my petulant and childish feelings out of my voice. I had to be losing my damn mind.

She laughed, and it did something to my chest, then my stomach, and finally my dick.

“He’s gay,” she said as if that was enough of an explanation.

“So?”

“So, he isn’t operating under the pretense of friendship with the goal of getting in my pants.”

“Who said I was trying to get in your pants?” Okay, in all honesty, that’s all I had wanted when she was sprawled under me in the tunnel when we first met.

Initially I had only wanted a quick fuck, but when she drunkenly asked me to stay the night and hold her, I’d experienced a protective rush. My dick hadn’t been happy, but something else in me clicked into place, and as I’d drifted off to sleep with her in my arms, everything had seemed right with the world.

It was the most mind-blowing thing I’d ever experienced. And it had me wanting to chase after her like a teenager.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, and I decided to accept that answer for the time being. Strategizing, I decided to pick my battles.

Though I wasn’t ready for our time to end, I stopped in front of her house. Then I walked her to the door. Ever the gentleman, I behaved.

I wanted to stay something fierce, but she paused at the door and pretty much ended the date at her porch with a smile.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said as she smiled at me from her open doorway. No kiss, no invite in, do not collect two hundred dollars for passing Go.

I smiled and nodded. “Hope I’ll talk to you soon,” I added before driving off.

Friends.

It was a start.

For almost a week after that, we mostly communicated through text messages. Between my schedule and hers, there wasn’t a lot of time for anything but that.

Over the next month, I brought her dinner several times. The first time, she’d mentioned she’d be getting home late and would make herself a peanut butter and jelly. She worked long hours and it made me worry about her taking care of herself.

Things had stayed platonic. She’d stuck to her guns with the friend thing, and I hadn’t pushed. Though I knew I should back off and call it a loss, I couldn’t. There was something about her, despite what I’d told my mom at Alex’s wedding—and the more time I spent around her, the stronger that something seemed.

We found that we both liked scary movies. Funny thing is, she loved them but wouldn’t watch them alone. I found it adorable. It was also something I was trying to work to my advantage. I may not have been able to gather the balls to ask her to go out again, but I had been able to convince her to come to my place when I “happened” to grab the newest horror flick.

She hadn’t told me I was being weird—hadn’t accused me of being crazy, so I must’ve been doing something right.

It might’ve been my imagination, but though her text messages weren’t overly wordy,