“The raised voice that surprises me, however, belongs to Nash. I creep to the door and crack it the tiniest bit, turning my head and pressing my ear to it.You are a shameless, creepy eavesdropping hussy.”

“Dude, now you’re flirting?Even to my own ears, my comment sounds suggestive. The sad thing is, it was meant that way. There are literally a dozen things I’d love for her to do for me. Or to me. Or let me do to her. -Nash”

“As I’m debating running for the exit, Nash leans down to whisper at my ear.“Is something wrong?”“I feel like the only splash of color in an abstract painting.”“You are the splash of color. But there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nash leans forward and cups my cheek with his hand. He cocks his head slightly as he considers me. “Don’t do that. Don’t ever make it out like you’re less. Because you’d be gravely mistaken.”

“She glides to a stop in front of me, all grace and luscious skin. Her bare chest and shoulders glow in the low light. I want to touch her, caress her, so much so that I ball my fingers into tight fists to keep them to myself.“You look beautiful.” My voice sounds strained, even to my own ears.”

“Then why are you flirting with me?”“I can’t seem to help myself.” -Nash”

“Are you cold?” he asks, turning toward me to run the backs of his fingers up and down my upper arm, as if testing the temperature of my skin. “Here,” he says, taking off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. The jacket is warm and heavy and smells just like Nash, like whatever cologne or soap he uses. I figure it must be called delicious, maybe by Armani or some other fancy designer. It almost makes my mouth water. “Is that better?” He wraps his arm around me, too, as if to ensure I won’t be cold. Of course, I won’t complain. Even if I was sweating, I wouldn’t complain.“That’s much better, thank you.”