[The Liukin Zone]

He never intended to indulge her in conversation. She could keep right on talking while he watched the gymnast’s every flip and spring. She could keep staring for that matter, too. He’d pay attention when he was good and ready—when a commercial came on.

Only, he couldn’t concentrate when she reached back and brushed his shoulder.

“Have you ever liked a girl who didn’t look just like that?” she asked, punctuating with her hand toward the screen.

He capped his sigh with a growl. Was it so wrong to want to watch what he could deem soft-core porn, in peace? Instead, he exchanged Nastia Liukin for the ink drawing on his arm. The blonde rested in a fierce beast’s claw, and held up a flower in her delicate hands. She wore little more than a slight pout.

“Yeah.”

“Really,” she said, “I would’ve thought you couldn’t get it up for anything else.”

Her bed creaked as he slid sideways to lay on his stomach behind her. It took him only a moment to adjust, and dangle his arms down the side of her mattress. He wrapped them around her, and she stiffened, as he knew she would.

He laid his cheek against her head and whispered, “I could get it up for you.”

“Cute, MacAllister,” she said.

His hands clasped over her shoulders, and he counted down slow seconds until she freed her tension through one soft breath.

“You’re tempting fate,” she said, her voice tired already.

“Take one for the team, Geiger.”

Though she put on quite a show, sighing each exhale, she relaxed in his grasp and watched television. He could now, unhindered and without shame, stay close enough to fill his nose with her apricot shampoo. It wasn’t until a word from McDonald’s, proud sponsor of the Olympic games, that she shook the silence at all.

“So, are you going to answer my question?”

“I liked a brunette, once.”

“Not that question,” she snapped. He could see her eyes roll through the back of her head. “How do I know a guy likes me?”

He probably should’ve stewed over her question longer, at least to make it seem that much more satisfying when he gave his answer. Except, he knew the one definitive thing he could offer her, above everything else, in the world of guy language. And it was his job to share it.

“If he’s around.”

“If he’s around,” she repeated.

“Yup.”

“What does that mean?”

“A guy who likes ya is gonna find a way to be around you as much as possible.”

“What, like you?”

He winced. The curses in his head fired so loud and fast it was a surprise they didn’t spring from him like a fountain of foul language. Quickly, he forced a smile to lighten his voice and added in a derisive sniff for good measure.

“Don’t get jealous, but’chur friend Sony’s hot.”

“You’re such an ass,” she said with a laugh. It came from her throat, low, breathy, and an octave below her voice; and he had it memorized. He had a lot of things memorized.