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“Double fuck.”

“I know. And if it’s not a figment of my imagination, I want to make sure she has me in the correct box.”

Caz shrugged like she’d just been asked a ridiculously easy math problem. “Then you gotta paint the box in red for her so there’s no mistaking it.”

“I don’t know how to highlight the box.”

“Kissing her face off might offer clarity,” Caz said, dropping her hands.

Taryn closed her eyes. The suggestion was so far from plausible but, at the same time, offered up a visual that turned her the hell on. Not exactly helpful. “I appreciate the advice. I will work on ways to paint the damn box red.”

“Have it your way, but will you keep me updated?” Caz asked in a much more sincere tone. “I know I’m a sarcastic ass sometimes, but I really do think you’re rad and want to help in any way I can.” She offered her fist up for a bump, which Taryn took her up on.

“I think you’re awesome, too. Thanks, Caz. Beat everyone at pool.”

“From your adorably full lips.”

Half an hour later, when she arrived at the navy and white Sailor’s Sound apartment complex, Taryn had made the decision that she simply had to loosen up around Charlie and show more of who she actually was. Honesty was best.

When Charlie answered the door in a pair of gray joggers and a gray and black snuggly hoodie, Taryn melted. She looked both soft and hot, and the combination sang the song of sexy to Taryn’s heart. The way strands of blond hair fell out of Charlie’s ponytail and framed her face made Taryn want to stand there and admire her forever. Luckily, her social skills overrode her cartoonlike longing.

Taryn gestured to Charlie’s outfit. “You’re already changed and much more comfortable than I am. I missed the memo. Boring jeans. So many regrets.”

“Not at all boring.” Charlie sent her a smile that could calm any storm and tilted her head. “Also, one can’t cook unless one is relaxed. The food simply wouldn’t taste good.” That’s when the aromas wafted onto the porch. Something savory and amazing was sizzling on the stove a few yards behind Charlie. “On that note, get in here. I gotta get back to my pans.” Charlie grabbed Taryn by the front of her shirt and tugged her inside.

“You know how to welcome a person.”

“Would you like a drink?” Charlie winced. “But go easy. I can’t tuck you in tonight.” She tossed in a playful wink.

“A soda would be fine. I’m only an occasional drinker, as probably evidenced by how hard it hit me that night.”

“Wise.” Charlie opened her fridge and presented her soft drink options, to which Taryn grabbed a can of Sprite and poured it into the iced glass Charlie provided on the spot. “Sauce on top of the chicken and pasta or on the side?”

Taryn stared at her. “On top. I’m not a monster.”

That scored a laugh. “My kind of girl. Not that I would have judged otherwise.” Charlie ladled the sauce and held their plates in her hands. “How do you feel about a coffee table picnic?”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Just a more relaxed approach to midnight dinners. Follow me. I’ll teach you my ways.”

Taryn did, taking a seat on the carpet, catty-corner from Charlie. Their plates were placed on the coffee table, which turned out to be the perfect dining height. Who knew? Taryn didn’t mind the cozy, comfortable setup in the slightest. Nor did she mind the food. After one bite, she turned to Charlie, fork in midair.

“You’re not a culinary student, so explain yourself.”

“Wow. A big compliment if I’ve ever heard one,” Charlie said, covering her mouth as she chewed. “At least, I think. I’m learning to speak Taryn.”

“You speak it just fine. You cook even better. Are you married? Because…” The words were out before Taryn had fully had a chance to okay them, and now there they were, floating around the room like a bubble about to pop.

“Shockingly, no. No one has proposed just yet. Writers are notoriously high-maintenance.” Maybe it was the stressed look on Taryn’s face that she couldn’t quite smother. Maybe it was just Charlie’s intuition. Either way, her smile faded to sincere. “So, do you date girls? I realize it’s not something we’ve talked about.”

“Yes,” Taryn said, probably too quickly, her opportunity to spray-paint red all around that box. “I’m not exactly straight. At all.”

“Cool. I didn’t know.” Charlie focused on cutting another bite of chicken. “Is this something you’ve newly discovered, or…” She paused, fork suspended in the air as she waited for Taryn’s answer. Such a casual conversation about something Taryn had been overthinking unnecessarily for days.

“No. I’ve known I was a lesbian for years. Just hadn’t looped other people in until more recently. So I guess you can consider yourself looped.” Why was her heart pounding so loudly, and had Charlie noticed?

“I’m glad you’re telling me. I hope I haven’t made assumptions when we’ve talked.” She frowned. “Straight shouldn’t be the default. I’m sorry if I made it that way.”