Make a Move

by Meika Usher

  Which was how I ended up here, on a bustling sidewalk at eleven p.m., the hand of Birdie Oliver, my best friend’s little sister, firmly planted on my ass.

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re too pretty to be out here all alone?” she murmured next to my ear.

  I turned to find her grinning at me, streetlights catching the mischievous glint in her blue eyes. “Anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to grab a guy’s ass without first asking permission?” I shot back, going for stern but missing the mark.

  “You are absolutely right. I’m sorry.” She laughed and lifted her hands into the air, freeing my butt from her grasp. “Forgive me?”

  Her grin was earnestly unapologetic. I helplessly smiled back. Incorrigible. That was what Sunny called her. Incorrigible, irritatingly flawless, Princess of Perfection. None of which was ever said with kindness.

  Until the last couple years, anyway.

  “I forgive you.” I shook my head and started back up the walk. “This time. But remember.” Glancing her way, I turned somber. “You have to buy me dinner the next time you want to grab my ass.”

  “Seems like a fair trade.” She flicked her bangs out of her eyes and marched ahead of me, the click-clack of her neon heels rising above the hum of traffic. “You headed to Shrimpy Dick’s?”

  “I am.” I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and wondered how Birdie was not freezing her ass off in her short-shorts and fishnets. “Had a hankering for a burger.”

  “What do you know? Me, too.” She fell back a couple steps and linked her arm through mine. “Shall we walk together?”

  Had any other girl grabbed my ass, then sidled up all close like this, I may have thought she was hitting on me. But Birdie? Nah. This was standard Birdie behavior. Like a puppy that wanted to be everyone’s friend, except that she also kinda hated everyone.

  It was an intriguing combination.

  “I mean, I was looking forward to walking the two blocks alone in the dark.” I shot a look her way. “All angsty and whatnot.”

  “Please.” She squeezed my arm with hers. “You couldn’t do angsty if you tried.”

  “Teenage Nate would disagree.” I maneuvered us around a group of college kids, loud and rowdy and taking up the whole sidewalk. “Teenage Nate reeked of angst.”

  Ahead of us, the Shrimpy Dick’s sign flickered in the darkness. I hated Almost Winter—the early darkness was miserable. For at least the first couple weeks after Daylight Savings Time, I was discombobulated and wondering how it’d gotten so late, so fast when, really, it was only half-past six. It’d been dark for hours now. Hours and hours and—

  “I love this time of year,” Birdie said, as if she could read my mind and decided to contradict me. Which would totally be a Birdie move.

  “Why?” I glanced down at her. Birdie was tall—even taller in those heels—but I still had a couple inches on her. “It’s so...depressing.”

  “You say depressing, I say captivating.” She shot a little smirk my way. “The best things happen in the dark, you know.”

  “Yeah, and also the worst things. Like murder. And ghosts. And—“

  “You little pessimist, you.” She pulled her arm from mine and spun till she was facing in front of me. Walking backward, she added, “Maybe I gotta show you what’s so good about the dark sometime.” And then she winked and turned around before I could muster up a response.

  I dragged my eyes from her and ignored the heat crawling up my neck. Yes, Birdie flirted. With everyone. No, it didn’t mean anything. Yet, here I was, flushing like a pre-teen with a crush.

  Not that I had a crush on Birdie. She fell firmly into the off-limits/out-of-my-league categories. In that, you know, she was my best friend’s baby sis/super hot.

  So, no. No crush.

  Still didn’t stop the blushing, though.

  We reached Shrimpy Dick’s just then, and Birdie swung the door open wide. “After you.”

  I gave her a sidelong glance as I moved past her. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  She lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” Following me inside, she added, “Besides, I got my fill of your sweet ass earlier.”

  Incorrigible.

  Yep. Sunny was a thousand percent correct. Her kid sister was definitely incorrigible.

  And charming as hell.

  We were greeted quickly by the hostess, a middle-aged brunette with twinkly eyes and bright red lips. “Table for two?” she asked after she raked her eyes over us.

  “That would be perfect,” Birdie answered before I could even open my mouth. “Thank you so much,” she glanced at the woman’s name tag. “Helen.”

  Helen smiled brightly, grabbed a couple menus, and led us to a booth in the back. “Your waiter will be right with you,” she said as we settled in. “You two enjoy.”

  Birdie returned her smile warmly, thanked her, then picked up her menu. “I am starving.”

  “I was, uh, actually planning to grab some food to-go,” I said. That way no one could judge me for the amount of French fries I was intending to consume.

  “Aw, come on.” She pushed out her lower lip. “You’re not gonna make me eat all alone, are you?”

  Most of the time, I was immune to the pouty, pitiful act. Most of the time, I could ignore it. See it for what it was—a manipulation tactic, playing on some poor sap’s sympathy. Most of the time, manipulation was not a weapon that worked on me.

  Luckily, this moment fell under that most of the time umbrella. I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest, unmoved.

  “Oh, come on.” She leaned forward, giving me the puppy dog look. “It’s eleven-thirty on a Friday and you’re about to carb-load at an all-night diner. You really have something better to do than to hang out with me?” Her brows lifted, daring me to contradict her.

  “Well...yeah,” I started as I reached for the menu. “For starters, my couch is way comfier than this booth.”

  “But by the time you got home, your food would be lukewarm, and you’d likely have to microwave it, and we both know nothing is as good after it’s been microwaved.”

  I laughed. “You really are Sunny’s sister, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged and flipped open my menu. “When she’s right, she’s right.” Then, after a pause. “Maybe don’t tell her that, though.”

  “Secret’s safe,” I replied as I studied the menu. My resolve was wearing thin. Microwaved food or fresh. Home alone on a Friday night or here with Birdie. The scales clearly tipped one way. “All right, fine,” I said before I even realized my mind was made up.

  Birdie grinned triumphantly and planted her elbows on the table, leaning toward me. “Okay, so.” She slid the menu closer to her, her pink-tipped finger tracing down the column of entrees. “Get this and this,” she said decisively, her finger jabbing points on the menu. “And...this. You won’t regret it.”

  I followed her finger’s path. Honey barbecue chicken wings with a side of bacon mac and cheese, and a chocolate shake. My stomach twisted, though I wasn’t sure if it was hunger or horror. “That...that’s...”

  “Trust me.” She plopped back down in her seat. “Best. Combination. Ever.”

  I shot her a skeptical look. “Is that what you’re getting?”

  “God, no.” Her lips pursed in distaste. “I have to walk home. I won’t make it if I eat that much.”

  “Oh, but it’s okay for me to be in a food coma.” I pushed my glasses up to the top of my head and peered at her. “I see how it is.”

  “You won’t regret it.” She tucked a long piece of dark hair behind her ear and glanced up, her eyes twinkling. “I promise.”

  I didn’t know if it was hunger-weakness or the way her eyes were full of challenge and laughter, but I found myself nodding. “Okay.”

  And then she grinned and I knew.

  It was Birdie.

  4: Birdie

  “Wait, wait.” I gasped through stomach-cramping laughter an hour later. “You did not sa
y that to him!”

  “Oh, I did.” Nate’s face was deadpan. “Every single word.”

  After I’d forced Nate to eat the Indigestion Special—of which he’d devoured every bite—we sat in our booth at Shrimpy Dick’s and talked. I hadn’t planned on staying this long. I’d planned on grabbing a quick bite, then heading home for a hot shower and my sweet, sweet bed. But then Nate started talking. And...how did I not know he was funny?

  He’d been telling me the story about his first Comic Con. Thirteen-year-old Nate, standing in line to meet the lead actor from his favorite nerd franchise, Galaxy Crash. I didn’t know much about the show beyond a few pop culture references. I was more of a slasher flicks and raunchy rom-coms kind of girl. But I knew enough to get what he was talking about. Sunny was my sister, after all. And, holy balls, was she a giant nerd.

  “Walked right up to him and blurted, I have your poster above my bed. I give it the Galaxy Salute every night.” He winced. “It was like...verbal diarrhea.”

  “The ‘galaxy salute’ sounds like you’ve got a boner.” I swirled my straw in my melted chocolate shake. “It sounds like you’ve got a boner and you whack it to his poster every night.”

  “Oh, believe me. I know what it sounds like.” Nate pushed his glasses onto the top of his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I spent years thinking about what it sounds like.”

  I leaned forward and gave him a no-bullshit stare. “Did you, though? Give his poster the galaxy salute?”

  “Oh, my god.” He sat back in his seat, color rising high in his cheeks. “No!”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t judge you if you did. Deacon Stone was hot.” I paused and considered. “Still is, actually.”

  “He’s a very attractive man,” Nate agreed with a tilt of his head. “But if I were gonna galaxy salute anyone, it would be Starla Gray.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course it would be. Giant boobs, blond hair, baby doll voice. Every male’s wet dream.” I glanced down at my barely-there breasts, then back to Nate. “Why do dudes like giant boobs so much?”

  More color shaded his cheeks, and I found myself enjoying the view. Er. Not in that way. I just liked pushing the limits with people. Most people were just so uptight. They needed a shake-up.

  Nate needed a shake-up.

  In all the years I’d known him, he’d always been quiet. Kind. Polite and...well, a bit boring. Could’ve been I didn’t really know him. Could’ve also been that he got lost in the chaos of big personalities he was always surrounded by. Cranky Sunny. Outrageous Ben. Hell, I would bet that even when he did conventions with Sunny, he let himself fade.

  Which was a shame. Because fade-resistant Nate was a blast.

  “I don’t know,” he was saying in answer to my boob question. “I don’t think all guys like them giant.”

  “Do you?” I pulled the collar of my shirt away from my chest and peered inside. “Mine aren’t big at all.”

  His dark eyes shot to mine and he did an admirable job of keeping them there. “I...uh.” He cleared his throat. “Breasts are nice in, uh, all forms.”

  “You know?” I let my hand fall to the table. “I agree with you. I never met a breast I didn’t like.”

  Sometimes, I said shit just for the shock factor. This one was a go-to. Most people assumed upon meeting me that I was straight as an arrow. Most people assumed that about most other people, actually. Which was annoyingly presumptuous, but whatever.

  Nate didn’t even react to my statement. Not a flinch or a widening of eyes or a flash of intrigue. Nothing. Instead, he reached for his water and sipped. Once he finished, he asked, “So do you like giant boobs?”

  A laugh tumbled out of me before I could stop it. Settling deeper into my seat, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m impressed.”

  He frowned. “By?”

  “You.” I studied him. “I thought I had you pegged. Quiet, nerdy, awkward.”

  His lips tilted upward. “You’re not wrong.”

  “No, no. I know.” I flashed him a smile to take any edge off my words. “But you’re also...ballsier than I expected.”

  He tilted his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “As you should.” I reached for my purse and dug in, extracting my Harry Potter wallet—I had a little nerd in me, too. “Dinner’s on me tonight. Only fair, since I basically force-fed you all the junk.”

  “No, it’s okay.” He pulled out his own wallet—Galaxy Crash. Of course. “It was actually really good.”

  I yanked his wallet from his hand and stashed it under my thigh. “Nope. Won’t allow it,” I said as our waiter swung by for the thousandth time—not that I blamed him. We’d been here a while. He was getting cranky. “Besides,” I continued, tossing a wink at Nate. “I might wanna touch your ass again later.” Then, I pulled some cash from my own wallet. “Here you go,” I said to the waiter, handing him a wad, hefty tip included. “All set. Thank you,“ I squinted at his name tag. “Brett.”

  “Thanks.” Brett softened just a tad. He was still cranky that we’d hogged his table all night, but you know, progress. “Have a good night.”

  “You, too,” Nate said with a wave. Then, he turned to me. “Can I have my wallet back now?”

  I smirked and pulled it from its place beneath me. “I don’t know...” Turning it over in my hand, I shot him a look. “What if I wanted to steal your identity or something?”

  He snorted. “Please. Nobody wants that.”

  “Why not?” As I spoke, I opened his wallet. Sunny was always telling me I had no boundaries, and I pretended not to understand what she meant. This, though. This was what she meant. “Nathaniel Kim. Six foot, two inches. Hundred and ninety pounds. Born Decemb—“

  “Okay, okay.” He reached across the table and reclaimed his wallet. “I don’t think the entire restaurant needs all the details of my existence.”

  “All the details?” I slid out of the booth and stood. “More like a summary. I didn’t even get to the good stuff.”

  Nate stood and stretched his arms over his head, growing even taller than his six foot two. “What good stuff?”

  I let my eyes rake over him briefly before answering. “Well, your driver’s license doesn’t mention that you’re hot, Korean, and an epic nerd. For starters.”

  “Epic nerd?” His brows lifted over the black frame of his glasses. “That’s good?”

  “Well, yeah.” I looped my arm through his and started forward. A few people looked up as we passed, but mostly everyone remained engrossed in their conversations and food. “Not everyone can say they’ve met Deacon Stone.”

  “I should not have told you that story.” Nate pushed open the door as we reached the exit and held it for me. “I don’t know why I told you that story.”

  “Because I’m irresistibly charming and you couldn’t help yourself.” I grinned as he let the door shut behind him. “Don’t feel bad. I have that effect on everyone.”

  “Don’t forget humble.” This time, he looped his arm through mine. “You are so humble.”

  “Oh, I know.” It was a full-blown blustery fall night. Dark and chilly and on the verge of more rain. I shivered. Soon, I’d have to trade in my pumps for warm, only slightly more sensible, boots. “But, really, humility is a waste of energy.”

  A laugh tumbled from Nate and I tilted my head to watch the way it transformed his face. Cute, my brain registered—not for the first time tonight. Tucking the thought away, I urged us forward.

  “You coming to game night tomorrow?” Nate asked after a couple minutes.

  “Yep.” I glanced his way. “Sunny already called to confirm I’d bring the dip.”

  “Oh, yeah. You forgot last time. Ben was—”

  “Devastated, I know.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s just dip, man. Calm down.”

  “I don’t know. If you forget it again, he’ll probably go mad.” Then, he leaned closer and added, “That’s how super villains are born, Birdie.”

  Desp
ite his somber expression, I burst into laughter. “Please. I’ve dealt with hangry Sunny for my entire life. I hardly think Ben’s got anything on her.”

  “I don’t know...” His arm tightened around mine. “He may look harmless, but you don’t feed him and...” He shuddered for effect. “Port Agnes wouldn’t know what hit it.”

  I laughed, resting my head against his shoulder. “I gotta say, that would be a piss-poor origin story. Aren’t you a writer?”

  “Ouch.” Nate winced. “Not my best work, I’ll admit.”

  Lifting my head from his shoulder, I let my gaze travel over his face. “You’re a good time, Nate Kim.” Forging forward, I added, “Who knew?”

  “I feel like I should be slightly insulted by the surprise in your voice right now,” he said dryly. “What, did you think I was Mr. Boring all these years?”

  “I mean, yeah.” I tossed a grin his way. “Basically.”

  He laughed. “Ouch. Thanks.”

  “It’s not my fault. You kept that Deacon Stone story to yourself for all these years!” I dropped his arm and stepped in front of him. “If anything, it was selfish on your part.”

  “Oh, yeah? You wanna talk selfish?” He shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets and grinned. “There may be actual photographic proof of my Deacon Stone trauma. I thought about showing you, but...” He shrugged. “I’m just too selfish.”

  “Oh!” I groaned and reached for his arm. “No way! I need to see this!”

  He laughed, and the husky notes of it registered somewhere in my lower region. “I think I’m gonna hold onto that.” His smile flashed in the streetlight as he took a step backward. “Till next time.”

  I watched him disappear into the bustling evening crowd, my mind warring with some other part of me. A part of me that found our exchange...intriguing? Charming? Flirty?

  Was Nate flirting with me?

  The thought rolled around in my brain for a few long seconds, like a penny in a tin can, before I dispelled it. “No,” I said aloud, reaching for the door handle. “No.”