I shrug. “Not really. I’m just still trying to figure you out is all. You’re kind of contradictory.”
She arches an eyebrow. “I’m contradictory? In what ways?”
“All of them. You’re cute as hell, but you don’t give a shit what you look like. You look sweet, but I have a feeling you’re just the right mix of good and evil. You seem really easygoing, like you aren’t the type to play games with guys, but you’re kind of a flirt. And I’m not judging at all by this next observation, but I’m aware of your reputation, yet you don’t seem like the type who needs a guy’s attention to stroke your self-esteem.”
Her expression is tight as she takes in everything I’ve just said. She reaches to her glass and takes a sip without breaking her stare. She finishes her drink, but holds the glass against her lips while she thinks. She eventually lowers it back to the table and looks down at her plate, picking up her fork.
“I’m not like that anymore,” she says softly, avoiding my gaze.
“Like what?” I hate the sadness in her voice now. Why do I always say stupid shit?
“I’m not how I used to be.”
Way to go, Daniel. Dumbass.
“Well, I didn’t know you back then, so all I can do is judge the girl sitting in front of me right now. And so far, she’s been a pretty damn cool date.”
The smile spreads back to her lips. “That’s good,” she says, looking back up at me. “I wasn’t sure what type of date I’d be, considering this is the first one I’ve ever been on.”
I laugh. “No need to stroke my ego,” I say. “I can handle the fact that I’m not the first guy to ever express an interest in you.”
“I’m serious,” she says. “I’ve never been on a real date before. Guys tend to skip this whole part with me so they can just get to what they really want me for.”
My smile disappears. I can tell by the look on her face she’s being completely serious. I lean forward and look her hard in the eyes. “Those guys were all fucktards.”
She laughs, but I don’t.
“I’m serious, Six. Those guys all need a good kick to the clit, because dinner-talk is by far the best part of you.”
When the sentence leaves my mouth, the smile leaves her face. She looks at me like no one’s ever given her a genuine compliment before. It pisses me off.
“How do you know this is the best part of me?” she asks, somehow finding that teasing, flirtatious tone in her voice again. “You haven’t had the pleasure of kissing me yet. I’m pretty sure that’s the best part of me, because I’m a phenomenal kisser.”
Jesus Christ. I don’t know if that was an invitation, but I want to send her my RSVP right this second. “I have no doubt being kissed by you would be fantastic, but if I had to choose, I’d take dinner-talk over a kiss any day.”
She narrows her eyes. “I call bullshit,” she says with a challenging glare. “There’s no way any guy would pick dinner-talk over a good make-out session.”
I attempt to return her challenging look, but she makes a good point.
“Okay,” I admit. “Maybe you’re right. But if I had my way, I’d pick kissing you during dinner-talk. Get the best of both worlds.”
She nods her head, impressed. “You’re good,” she says, leaning back in her seat. She folds her arms over her chest. “Where’d you learn those smooth moves?”
I wipe my mouth with my napkin, then set it on top of my plate. I lift my elbows until they’re resting on the back of the booth and I smile at her. “I don’t have smooth moves. I’m just charismatic . . . remember?”
Her mouth curls up into a grin and she shakes her head like she knows she’s in trouble. Her eyes are smiling at me and I realize I’ve never felt like this before with any other girl. Not that I have it in my head that we’re about to fall in love or we’re soulmates or some shit like that. I’ve just never been around a girl where being myself was actually a good thing. With Val, I was always trying my hardest not to piss her off. With past girlfriends, I always found myself holding back from all the shit I really wanted to say. I’ve always felt like being myself with a girl wasn’t necessarily a good thing because I’ll be the first to admit, I can be a little over the top.
It’s different with Six, though. Not only does she get my sense of humor and my personality, but I feel like she encourages it. I feel like the real me is what she likes the most and every time she laughs or smiles at the perfect moment, I want to fist bump her.