“Oh, God. Don’t get nervous, Elisa. Please. No, I’m just overthinking. You’re sitting here looking so beautiful and I just… suddenly I felt like a goofball thinking I could get with you. What with this beer belly and all this hair.”
I regard him more closely, wondering what on earth he’s talking about. “I don’t notice anything like that. Beer belly? Not hardly.” I lay a hand on the small convexity. “And isn’t a hairy chest a good thing?”
His muscles jump under my touch, and I gently scratch through the admittedly rather dense, soft strands, hoping to either soothe or tickle him.
“Shitty thing, having such a crush on someone that when they finally come around, you feel like you’re twelve, with pimples and braces.”
“I hear you there, Luke, but let’s not get hung up on it. We’re not here
