Sex, Not Love

I turned to him with confusion written all over my face. “Hmm?”

“You didn’t hear one word I said, did you?”

“I heard you.”

“Yeah? What did I ask?”

“You asked if I wanted something.”

“Before that.”

“Oh.”

He smirked and leaned in. “Thinking about what I said earlier in the car, aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“How old are you? Because you sound like you’re seven.”

Hunter stood. “What do you want to eat? Because if you let me decide, I’m buying you a hot dog to watch you eat it.”

“I’m not hungry.” It wasn’t until my eyes followed Hunter down the bleachers that I even noticed the game had stopped. It was half-time, and I’d dazed for most of the first part of the game.

Hunter returned with a brown box holding pretzels and two ridiculously large sodas. He handed one to me. “So, what did you decide?”

“I guess I’m having a pretzel since you bought it for me already.”

“I meant regarding my proposal you’ve been fantasizing about for the last half hour.”

“I wasn’t...” I thought better of protesting again, which would lead to another round of immature am not, are toos, and instead, I came clean. Rolling my eyes, I said, “I’ve been going over the pros and cons in my head.”

He set his pretzel down, dusted off his hands, and turned in his seat to give me his full attention. “Lay ’em on me.”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, this isn’t the appropriate place for it.” I looked to my left and right. Although no one seemed to be paying attention, I’d certainly eavesdrop on this conversation if I heard it in the stands.

“Okay. Then where is?”

“Somewhere more private.”

“My place after the game today.”

“No.”

“Why not? Can’t trust yourself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll have Izzy, and I told her we would go shopping later this afternoon after the game.”

“Tomorrow, then?”