She falls onto her back. “So help me God, Warren, if you ask me to marry you I’ll cut your nuts off.”
“I don’t want to marry you,” I say. “Yet. But . . .”
I crawl over to her part of our home and lie next to her. “Will you go on a date with me?”
She looks away from me and stares up at the ceiling. “Oh, my God,” she whispers. “We’ve never been on a date before?”
“Not a real one.”
She slaps a hand to her forehead. “I’m such a whore. I already moved in with you and we haven’t even been on a date?”
“You’re not a whore,” I say to her with mock reassurance. “We haven’t even had sex . . . oh, wait.” I grimace. “You are such a whore. A huge, slutty whore who wants me to try anal with her tonight.”
She laughs and shoves me in the chest.
I shove her back.
She shoves me harder.
I push her until she’s at the edge of her bed.
She lifts her legs to kick me.
I kick her back, pushing her off the bed until she’s lying on the floor. After several quiet seconds, I scoot to the edge of the mattress and look down at her. She’s still lying flat on her back in the same position she landed.
“You could give Brody a run for his money,” I tell her. She reaches up a hand to hit me, but I grab it and pull it to my mouth. I kiss the top of it and hold her hand while I lock eyes with her.
She’s in an unusually agreeable mood right now, which leads me to believe that maybe . . . just maybe . . .
“I have one more question, Bridgette.”
She cocks an eyebrow and slowly shakes her head. “I’m not telling you the name of that porn.”
I drop her hand and roll onto my back. “Fuck.”
Maybe not.