Page 67 of It's Not PMS, It's You

The water continued to run in the sink.

The air between us seemed to be filled with attraction.

Or maybe it was my drunken, desperate imagination.

How could I trust my gut when it appeared to be on vacation?

I finally had to break the silence between us. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Me? No way!”

“Good, because that would be just weird.”

“Weird, indeed.”

I pointed at him. “You’rethe one who said we were complete opposites, and I agree with you. Even if I try hard to picture us together—”

Nick stopped rinsing the dish and looked at me. “You’re trying to picture us together?”

“No!” I yanked the dish out of his hands and stuck it in the dishwasher. “Why? Have you?”

Nick shook his head. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Why would I?”

“I don’t know!”

We stared at each other like we were in a standoff, waiting for the other person to make a move. What type of move, I had no idea.

This was getting weirder by the minute.

I grabbed the wine glass from his hand and stuck it in the dishwasher. “Can we change the subject, please?”

“We weren’t talking.”

“Is it hot in here?” I loosened my blouse, but then wondered if I just flashed him again.

Nick glanced down at my cleavage and swallowed hard.

Yup. Looks like I did.

He jerked his eyes back up to mine. “Yes. Hot. Very hot. I think it would be a good idea if I left now.”

“Okay . . .”

He glanced over at my phone on the counter.

“I saw that.”

Nick laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right . . .”

“But if you still need a recommendation for a great restaurant for your date—”

“That’s quite all right.”

“You said you like sushi, right?”