I don’t say anything, leaning forward and resting my chin on my arm in dejection. It does really annoy me, thinking of all the money I forked out for the tickets. Michelle gets up from the table then.
“Listen, you two discuss it between yourselves. I need to use the ladies’ room, and then I’m going to chat up the fox sitting over by the bar all by his lonesome. Toodles!”
Eh, come again? I thought she had her heart set on bagging Jay tonight. What a fickle web her libido weaves.
“Toodles?” Jay asks, one eyebrow raised.
“Rhymes with poodles,” I mumble.
“And noodles.”
“Doodles.”
“Oodles.”
“Strudels.”
“Googles?” says Jay. I shake my head and smile for the first time since Michelle decided to embarrass me. “Okay, I got nothing.”
“Ha! I win the rhyming war,” I declare, and sit up straighter, my hand going for the wine again.
“You feeling better now?” Jay asks, voice low.
“Slightly.”
His arm moves across the back of the couch we’re sitting on. “You’re too fucking cute,” he says, his mouth close to my ear. “You should let me go with you to the thing.”
I eye him and fold my arms. “Can you please forget about that? I’m still dying of embarrassment.”
“How about if I pretend to be a gay dude for the entire day? Will that make you feel less embarrassed?”
“Yeah, like anyone would believe that. I don’t even get why you want to come. It’s for single women, not men.”
“Didn’t I just say I’d pretend to be gay? That way I’d be there for the same thing as everyone else.” He grins.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You think you’re so clever. Fine, you can come, but you have to promise to take it seriously.”
He swipes his fingers over his chest, making a little X-shape. “Cross my heart. So, it’s settled. I’m coming.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, and glance across the room to see Michelle approaching the guy she said she had her eye on. I still don’t get why her interest in Jay has disappeared so abruptly. Perhaps she decided she doesn’t like all his tattoos. Not that you can see much of them with the way he’s dressed right now. And not that I’m not relieved her attention has been diverted. I seem to be developing an ever-growing crush, and watching my best friend get off with said crush might be a little too painful to bear.
Jay moves closer to me on the red velvet couch, his thigh touching mine. “So, you watch porn, huh?”
A spurt of laughter erupts from me. “Trust you to remember that tiny detail, you lunatic. I was being sarcastic. You don’t have to take everything I say as gospel.”
His eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “You watch it. I have quite a varied collection, you know. You’re welcome to borrow from me anytime.” He picks up his drink and takes a swig, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“I don’t watch porn,” I say, adamant.
“Everybody watches porn.”
“Well, I don’t. Porn for me is more cerebral. I get a better thrill out of a really emotionally intense romance than watching two random people go at it.”
He leans closer, interest marking his features. “Yeah? Tell me more.”
Another sip of wine. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Like, you know when Harvey Keitel touches Holly Hunter through the hole in her stockings in The Piano? That turns me on more than seeing actual sex.”
“I bet that’s a fucking sight,” he says under his breath.
“What?”
His arm that’s hanging along the back of the couch moves down to rest on my shoulders. I tense up, my heart beating faster at his closeness. “Nothing. That’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, Matilda.”
I expect him to be making fun of me, but when I look at him, there’s nothing but seriousness on his face. Shifting away, I focus on my wine, not saying a word. Michelle’s tinkling laughter trickles over from the bar as she places her hand on the guy’s arm.
Jay follows where I’m looking. “Now, remember I said I’d teach you about body language?”
I nod.
“Well, look at your friend as an example. When a girl likes a guy, she’ll do some subtle touching to show her interest, like Michelle’s doing now. So, if you want to show somebody you’re interested, you can put your hand on their arm or their leg for a second, then take it away.”
I try not to think about how his thigh is still touching mine. What does that mean?
“There’s also eye contact,” he goes on. “If you like a guy, you should be looking at him, not at the floor. Look away when you need to and then look back. Maintaining constant eye contact just looks psycho, so you’ve got to perfect it.”