“You really think that?”

“Yeah. I’m still not fuckin’ you on your couch. Not now. Not the first time.” He grinned at me. “Maybe the third.”

I pushed at his chest and did it again weakly but this time I did it for a different reason and I did it slightly grinning.

After I did that, I curled my fingers in his shirt and bent my neck so my forehead rested at the base of his throat.

His next words sounded against the top of my hair. “Next week, I’ll take you to a nice dinner. You can dress up. We’ll do it up right. Then I’ll give you what you need.”

“That’d be nice,” I whispered, and it would. It made me nervous but it also made me excited that I had a variety of things to look forward to: a nice dinner, a chance to dress up, a night with Joker… and what I needed.

It was safe to say Aaron dumping me at my age was a hit to my confidence. Then again, if that happened at any age, I suspected it would be.

I was never a girl to strut her stuff, but I was a girl who knew from Aaron’s attention I had some stuff. After Aaron, I figured I didn’t.

A handsome, manly man like Joker liking me, obviously attracted to me, wanting to spend time with me, and wanting to give that to me while respecting me was brilliant. It gave that back, the feeling that I might just have some stuff. And that meant a lot to me.

Just like everything Joker made it seem easy to give to me meant a lot.

“Now, it sucks, but I got plans tomorrow night,” he continued.

That did suck.

“Next day, you’re off?” he asked. I nodded, my forehead moving on his chest then I tipped my head back and caught his eyes. “You want, we’ll do something.”

“I want,” I said quietly.

He wanted it too. He didn’t lock that away behind his eyes. He gave it right to me.

And it felt like a gift.

He leaned in, touched his lips to my nose, my mouth, then he shifted and slid them along my cheek to my jaw.

He settled back beside me and caught my eyes.

“Now, I gotta go home, Carrie.”

Bummer.

“All right.”

He gave me a squeeze, and before I wanted it (way before) we were off the couch and on our feet. He took my hand and did the getting his jacket and going to the door taking me with him drill.

He cupped my cheek, brushed his lips to mine, and gave me his, “Later,” but this time, he added, “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“’Night, babe.”

“’Night, sweetheart.”

His face got soft before he moved into the walkway and out of sight.

I sighed, closed the door and put my back to it.