How to Fail at Flirting

by Denise Williams

  The bed creaked behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder. Jake, hair pointing in all directions, one eye half-closed, squinted into the light as he stretched and walked to me.

  “Good morning,” he rasped, voice thick from sleep, as he wrapped his arms around my naked body.

  “Good morning,” I murmured.

  Jake dotted kisses over my shoulder, and I let him mold me to him. “Not worried about me seeing you naked this time, huh?”

  “I couldn’t find any of your shirts. Did I wake you?”

  “I’m usually an early riser. I was pretty tired after last night, though.”

  “That’s fair.” My head lolled back as his lips grazed my neck. “You worked hard.”

  “It was enjoyable work.” He nipped at my earlobe, his hand sliding down my stomach. “Did you sleep well?”

  I marveled at how well we fit together, and I arched into him. “Uh-huh.”

  “This is a nice way to wake up.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” I tried to cover my mouth when his lips neared mine. “But, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

  He maneuvered in front of my hand, kissing me, taking my top lip between his. “Neither have I.”

  Those sweet kisses by the window intensified, and we found ourselves enmeshed in the sheets and pillows again. Unlike the night before, when we’d come together in a frenzy, this time was slow. Every caress, stroke, and thrust melted into the next until it all crescendoed.

  Resting my head on his shoulder, I caught my breath. My torrent of pleasure ebbed, and we rested in a cozy huddle until he jerked away, surprising me.

  “I forgot,” he said, climbing off the bed while I looked on, confused. “I brought you something.”

  “A present?” I propped myself on my elbows.

  He handed me an envelope-sized package wrapped in plain brown paper with a pink ribbon around it. “I meant to give it to you last night but got distracted.”

  I took the package, glancing between him and the gift. “You brought me a present just because?” I asked again, awed.

  He climbed back in bed next to me, his expression gleeful. “Open it.”

  I dragged my nail under the paper and pulled out a package of brightly colored pencils with my name embossed on them in gold lettering. They were the kind I always hoped for as a kid. I met his grin, and my heart did somersaults. “Where did you find these?”

  He shrugged. “I have a guy.”

  “You have a pencil guy?” I ran my fingers over the embossing, tracing my name. The gift was perfect. He’d been thinking of me; he’d listened and knew me enough to know this simple thing would make me smile. I didn’t just smile, I beamed.

  “Do you like them? I was a little worried you’d think it was cheesy.”

  “You know I like cheesy. I love them.” I set the pencils aside, wrapping my arms around his neck to kiss him again. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stroked my neck, and we lay in loose-limbed silence for a minute or two. “So, when do I get to see you again?”

  My head shot up.

  “What?” he asked, seeming both startled and amused. “I’m really not a wham-bam kind of guy.”

  “I know, I—” I stammered. “I mean, I’m not, either, a wham-bam girl, that is. I’m not good at relationships,” I blurted. “It seems like you should know that before, or even just if, this is something . . .” I trailed off. “Not that I’m saying it has to be more than fun,” I stammered and pressed my eyes shut for a moment. “Forget I said that, it’s a nonissue—I know this is casual and I don’t expect anything from you—”

  “Hey, calm down.” He rolled to his side, stretching an arm over my waist. “I don’t know what this is, exactly. It’s new, and I don’t want to rush anything. And, if it helps, I have it on excellent authority I am not good at relationships, either. I can get caught up with work, I travel a lot, I can be too closed off, I’m not romantic enough.”

  He scrunched his nose and closed one eye. “Have I convinced you to keep seeing me yet?”

  “You bought me pencils. That’s pretty romantic.” I touched his biceps, enjoying how solid he was against me. “But what I’m hearing is that you did not treat those sweet, elderly librarians very well.”

  “It’s a good thing Gladys likes bad boys.” His eyes lit up. “Here’s what I do know: You’re fun and funny, and you make me feel fun and funny, and no one has done that in a long time.” His hand rubbed up and down my side, creating a friction that made me want to roll into him. “And you’re beautiful. I don’t hit on women in bars, ever. But I couldn’t not talk to you. And then, once I did . . .” He stroked his thumb up and down the side of my face. “Well, I didn’t want to stop, because I think you kind of get me, and that feels like something.”

  He planted a light kiss on my mouth, a sweet peck. “So, I’m okay with you having some expectations while we figure out what this is.”

  I’d been bracing for him to let me off the hook, to agree that this was casual. Instead, I was trying to wrap my mind around what he’d said. “I’d like that.”

  “I fly out tonight. Can we make plans to see each other soon?”

  I let his question hang between us for a moment. I wanted to see him again, and the reasons not to take the risk kept feeling less and less significant. “Okay. Assuming Muriel doesn’t put the kibosh on this whole thing, but you can’t just fly across the country every week.”

  “You grossly underestimate the number of frequent-flier miles I accrue.”

  I took a breath, thinking of how to respond.

  He spoke again before I finished exhaling. “Plus, I consider this recruiting for my kickball team. It’s a business expense.”

  “You’re a good negotiator.”

  “And you’re harder to pin down than the Wall Street guys I used to work with. So, I ask again, Dr. Naya Turner, when can I next see you?”

  I laughed, holding my hands up in surrender, palms toward him. “How about we meet in Cincinnati?”

  He barked out a deep laugh. “Not what I was expecting you to say, but okay. Why Cincinnati?”

  “Well, it’s halfway between Chicago and Raleigh. I’ve never been, have you?” And I don’t know anyone there, which makes it an appealing location to continue our not-so-clandestine affair.

  “I haven’t, but I’m psyched that you researched meeting places already. I think you might kind of like me.” His lips quirked, and I was busted. “What would we do in Cincinnati? I mean, besides the obvious.” We both reached for our phones and began searching, finding a zoo, shopping, trendy restaurants, and sports.

  “I guess we wouldn’t be bored.” I held up the visitors bureau website for him to examine.

  “I’m never bored with you. Except in bed. You are really boring in bed. Maybe we should stick to karaoke and zoos.”

  I glowered at him. “Your jokes don’t always make you more charming. You don’t seem too invested in me seeing you again.”

  “You know I’m playing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you want me to give you a full list of all the ways I find you utterly fascinating, in and out of bed?”

  “I like lists.”

  “I remember. Have we checked anything new off? At least a few things from last night were on there, hopefully.”

  Heat rose on my cheeks, and I shifted closer to him without answering. Dating isn’t on the list.

  “I’m guessing so, because you’re blushing. I find your blushing kind of hot. It’s actually on the list. I’ll send you the rest of it later. I promise.” He yawned again. “I never get any sleep when I’m with you, but I need to get ready for a meeting. I’m holding you to Cincinnati, though.”

  I ran a hand down his forearm, the short hairs tickling my palm. “Scout’s honor.”

  * * *


  Later that morning, I’d begun poring over my interview data from spring with the fourth graders. Before inviting me to play kickball, one of the kids had been telling me about the math game and how he wanted to show it to his abuela because she didn’t speak English, and the game would translate his game stats to Spanish. I smiled, hearing my grandfather’s voice in my head. I returned to reviewing, though my mind would trip on something Jake had said, or how he’d beamed when he gave me the pencils. I wondered if maybe in some universe I could have him, keep my job, and hold on to this contented feeling. Like he knew I was thinking of him, my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Jake followed immediately by a second, third, and fourth.

  Jake: The spot on your neck, just below your jaw. The skin is so soft, and you make a little whimpering sound when I kiss you there. That sound ends me.

  Jake: This tiny, crescent-shaped scar on your left inner thigh. How did you get that?

  Jake: When your whole body quivers and shakes right before you come with my mouth on you and you grip my hair.

  Jake: The way you seem to let go of every inhibition when you’re on top of me, all bossy-like.

  Goose bumps pricked up my arms as I read, and a tension coiled low in my belly as I flicked a glance between the manuscript sitting lifeless on the screen and the bouncing dots on my phone, indicating Jake was drafting another text.

  Jake: I had a few minutes, and I promised to share a list.

  Jake: My list of things I like about you outside bed is much longer.

  Jake: Your laugh, the look you give me when I tell a bad joke, how you get all twitchy when you’re nervous.

  Jake: This is all on top of your cheese puns and kickball prowess.

  Naya: You are something else.

  Jake: Something good?

  Naya: Something very good.

  Jake: Something you can’t get enough of?

  Naya: Something who ends sentences with prepositions.

  Jake: Nerd.

  I set my phone down, a giddy uneasiness bubbling in me, because his texts had me making my own list about him, and it was growing longer by the minute.

  Twenty-six

  The board flashed as his flight changed from “delayed” to “arrived.” I looked down to find a text from Jake containing only a winking emoji, and I sniffled. What had started as a small tickle in my throat when I woke up that morning had blossomed into a runny nose, body aches, and a light head as I sat in the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport.

  I’d shaved, waxed, and plucked with care and packed my favorite lingerie for a sexy weekend. After two weeks apart, my body reverberated with the same bundle of nerves I had the first night we were together. Only this time, the onset of chills and a dull ache behind my eyes clouded everything. I’m nothing if not on-brand.

  Jake strode through the small crowd and wrapped his long arms around me. His lightweight maroon sweater was soft against my cheek, and the closeness of his body felt right. The hug lasted only seconds, but the rest of the airport receded into the background.

  “Hi,” he said.

  I tipped my chin up, but soon my head whipped downward and bumped gracelessly against his chest. Not in a ladylike, dainty “achoo”; this was a wet, loud, humiliating honk.

  “Bless you.” He looked down at me, and his expression turned to one of concern. “Are you getting sick?”

  I tried to smile, shaking my head. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I reasoned, fighting back the urge to sniffle and cough, losing both battles. “I was fine when I got on the plane. Now . . . this.” I motioned to my face.

  We’d planned on a weekend full of steamy, naked activity. We’d discussed it, at length, and in a level of detail that made me pray Muriel from HR never happened upon our texting history. Jake held the back of his hand to my forehead and cheek, his skin cool against my face. “I think you might have a fever.”

  I closed my eyes momentarily. “No time for that—we’re in Cincinnati and only for two days.”

  “Uh-huh, let’s get to the hotel so you can rest.”

  My heart sank, and I blinked slowly, slumping against him.

  Jake linked his fingers with mine, steering me forward. “How was your flight?” He dipped his lips to kiss the top of my head, ignoring that I’d just sneezed all over him.

  * * *

  Our room was on the fifteenth floor with a view of Cincinnati. In the sunlight, the Ohio River reflected the blue sky, and the city’s skyline sparkled. I only took in the view for a moment before sinking gracelessly to the bed like a sack of potatoes. The fever seemed to have broken, but a chill coursed through me, and I wrapped my arms around my knees.

  Jake touched the back of his hand to my face again, and his mouth formed a straight line.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, my words interrupted by sniffles. “I can get my own room. I don’t want you to get sick.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” He shook his head and waved dismissively. “I’m going to get a bath going for you, then find a drugstore for some medicine.” He disappeared into the bathroom while speaking, and the water began running.

  “I’ll be fine, really,” I called through the open door, rubbing my arms for warmth. My voice came out wobbly and strained. “Don’t go to the trouble. It’s just a cold or something.” I glimpsed his forearm over the edge of the tub, checking the water temperature. No one had drawn a bath for me since I was a child, and I felt simultaneously helpless and grateful.

  “It shouldn’t take me long. Hopefully the steam will help,” he said, grazing one of those large hands over my shoulder.

  As he stepped into the hallway, I cursed my body’s inability to be a team player. First, I’d thrown up while attempting a one-night stand, and then, with a whole sexy weekend available to us, I decide to host a germ party.

  The bodywash provided by the hotel smelled like oranges, and I poured a little in the water until the heady scent filled the room. Sliding beneath the bubbles and resting my head against the edge of the tub, I breathed in the steam rising off the water. I rarely got sick, but when I did, it hit hard and fast, like today.

  Closing my eyes, I inhaled the steam and let my mind wander. The previous two weeks had been quiet at work except for the barrage of rumors passed on with every colleague interaction in person or on social media. Have you heard they’re going to cut people before fall semester? A friend of a friend told me everything outside engineering and business is on the chopping block. Rumor has it that the consultants have been analyzing data for a while now and decisions are already made. I knew it was wrong to ask Jake about what I’d heard, but none of the rumors ever made me feel better about the situation. I found myself constantly stewing in anxiety, taking each piece of gossip for the realistic possibility it was.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been soaking, but two small taps at the bathroom door made me turn my head. When I pulled myself up, water sloshed against the side of the tub. “You can come in.” My voice was husky in a way that might have been sexy, were it not for all the phlegm.

  He stepped into the room, holding up a plastic bag. “I guessed you didn’t pack a lot of lounging clothes, so I picked these up for you, too.” He set the bag on the counter by the sink. “When you’re ready, I got all kinds of medicine.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled, slipping back into the water, momentarily submerging all but my head. Where did I find this guy?

  When I walked out, he flicked his eyes up from the bed where he was reading something on his phone and smiled. “Beautiful.”

  I’d pulled on the clothes he bought—a T-shirt that was a few sizes too large and a pair of sweatpants sporting the Cincinnati football team’s logo. I’d piled my hair on top of my head, and my makeup was scrubbed away. “You’re—” I paused to blow my nose with a tissue I grabbed from the nightstand. “You’re clear
ly lying.”

  “Never.” He flicked his gaze down to my baggy clothes. “Sorry. That’s the best I could do at the drugstore.”

  “They’re comfy. Thank you.” I glanced at the desk and brought my hand to my mouth in surprise. Neatly arranged atop it was half a pharmacy.

  “I didn’t know what brands you preferred, so I picked up a few different cold and flu treatments, plus some cough syrup . . .” he trailed off. Rising, he slid his hands up and down my arms and then rubbed small circles on my shoulders. The pressure and warmth of him was its own kind of medicine, and his chest was solid against my back.

  “This is too much, especially since I am ruining your weekend.” I popped out two gel caps from a package of cold and sinus relief medicine. “And because you might end up on a watch list for meth chemists after buying all of this.”

  “You’re not ruining my weekend.” He faced me. “I planned to spend time with you, which I’m doing.”

  “Yes, but we planned to be naked and sweaty all weekend.”

  He pressed the back of his hand gently to my cheek. “True, but the naked and sweaty was secondary.” His eyes were soft as he brushed my face, tucking a curl that had escaped my messy ponytail behind my ear. Jake slid the side of his thumb along my lower lip at a glacial pace.

  “I don’t want to get you sick.”

  “Nothing risked, nothing gained.” The kiss was chaste before he pulled back. He held me, and my heart thundered, my body in tune with his and hyperaware of the weight of his hands and the stretch of his fingers.

  “I have one more thing.” He stepped back and picked up his laptop from the bed. I sank onto the duvet as he fiddled with his keyboard. I tucked my legs to my chest and shivered, after a chill raced through me.

  Jake held up the screen, the browser open to a familiar movie streaming site. I cocked my head to the side and chuckled. The cover images for the original Star Wars trilogy filled the window.

  I winced against the ache in my shoulders and the lightness in my head, but my heart swelled at the thoughtful gesture. I snuggled into the pillows as he started the first movie before kicking off his shoes and stretching out beside me on the bed.