Five First Dates (Sassy in the City 2)

“You don’t think I’m a gift?” He put his hand on his chest. “I’m mortally wounded.”

“I don’t know what you are,” I told him honestly.

“Do you want me to tell you?” he asked.

Equally unnerved and amused, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. Get us some plates.”

“Let’s go ice skating,” Maddox said when we were sitting around my coffee table.

“What?” I asked, startled. “You want t

o go ice skating?”

“Yes. We did that once when we were kids, remember? Your mom took us into the city and we skated at Rockefeller Center.”

That was a memory I’d totally forgotten about. I smiled. “Oh, yeah. I was about fourteen, I guess. I could barely skate because I was so worried my outfit wasn’t cool enough for the city. Geez, what a horrible age.” I shuddered. “I have a vague memory of arguing with Steven too, though I can’t remember about what.”

“He yanked your hat off your head and you fell trying to skate after him to get it back.”

I made a face. “How could I forget that? I was so annoyed with him. All his little brother bullshit. Sometimes it was too much.” But I remembered the rest of that story too. “You sat down on the ice with me and pretended like we’d done it on purpose so I wouldn’t be as embarrassed.” Smiling at him, I added, “You were a sweet little kid.”

“Do you still see me as just your little brother’s best friend?” he asked.

The question felt weighty. Important. Wetting my bottom lip with my tongue, I shook my head. “No. Of course not. I see you as my friend too.”

His nostrils flared.

Our relationship blurred so many lines that sometimes I didn’t know what to say to him. He was never short on words or actions. But I found myself feeling more than the words I’d spoken. We weren’t just friends. We were friends and roommates and lovers.

Oh. My. God.

We were dating without dating.

“Friends with benefits,” he said.

Right. Friends with benefits. “Exactly,” I said, as if I had any clue what I was doing. Which I had none. Zero clues. Negative clues. Less than.

Thirty minutes later we were on the couch and Maddox was stealing my ice cream. “Hey! You said you’re off sugar.”

“It smells good.” He licked my spoon and gave me a smile. “Sorry.”

“Ice cream doesn’t have a scent from three feet away.” I took my spoon back. “You’re not even remotely sorry.”

“It’s my reward for watching this movie with you.”

All week I’d been running a Sandra Bullock marathon for Maddox. That night we were watching While You Were Sleeping.

“This is a great movie. You’re going to love it. Because the guy she saves in the coma isn’t the guy she ends up with.”

Maddox threw his hands up. “What the hell? You just told me the ending! Now I don’t need or want to watch it.”

“I didn’t tell you who she ends up with,” I protested.

“How hard could it be to figure out? You suck at secrets. Admit it. You always sucked at secrets. Remember when your friend Jennifer made out with the janitor and you told everyone?”

“Because he was the janitor!” I protested. “That was gross.”

“He was eighteen and so was she. They made out at the bowling alley on a Friday night like three weeks after Jennifer’s graduation.”