Dangerous Rock (Dangerous Noise 3)

Joel chuckles. "It's great."

"It's very good."

"That's the best I'm going to get from you, huh?"

I nod.

"I'll take it." He turns his attention to his plate but he keeps one eye on me.

Even with the rice a little mushy and the shrimp a little stringy, the dish is good.

Very good even.

But that doesn't feel like enough.

Good has never felt like enough to me.

And I have the scars to prove it.

I trace the faint scars on my wrist as I pour over old memories.

Joel was right. I don't do things unless I can be great. Or maybe I make a point of being great at everything I choose to do.

Either way, I never give myself permission to fail.

Hell, I never give myself permission to be good enough.

Forget about okay or terrible.

It means I close myself off to any activity where I won't excel.

It means I stay planted firmly in my comfort zone.

Only… I'm here, in Los Angeles, in Joel's apartment, spending a week with him before our impending divorce.

That's way, way outside my comfort zone.

I want to try new things. To be the kind of person who can try new things.

But not tonight.

Tonight, I need comfort food.

Like greasy shrimp stir-fry.

Joel finishes first. He waits for me to finish then takes our plates to the sink.

He checks the time on his way back to the couch. "There's a lot of night left."

There is. And I'm tempted to insist we spend it in his bed, naked. I need the comfort right now. Even if it means I break into pieces when we part.

He sits next to me, his body turned towards mine. "I have a pitch."

My breath catches in my throat. "Yeah?"

His eyes fill with mischief. "It might keep you up all night."

Yes. Hell yes. I nod.