Heteroflexibility by Mary Beth Daniels Read Free Book Online Page A

Bradford.”
    I exhaled for the first time in four hundred minutes. “I do want to talk to him.”
    “Everybody does. He’s too beautiful not to look at.”
    We walked across the patio. Fern leaned against the rail, now surrounded by other women.
    “She’s not bi, is she?” Nikki asked.
    “Fern is like a universal remote. Anyone can push her buttons.”
    Nikki nodded, thoughtful. “There’s Bradford.” She turned us to face the back fence line. A group of men were talking and laughing, beer bottles in hand, like you’d see at any bar. Some wore jerseys, the others plain button-down shirts and jeans. All were clean cut, short haired, a few sporting bits of facial hair, goatees or light moustaches.
    Nikki lifted her beer in their direction. “That’s him, in the pinstripes. You’ll find yourself staring at his perfect mouth. Don’t worry, we all do it. If I were going to switch teams, he’d be the man. Not that he’d be interested in me.”
    Bradford had an arm slung over another man’s shoulder and talked earnestly, gesturing broadly with his free hand. I couldn’t see his face, but his hair was clipped short, stylishly cut. His sideburns were a little longer than usual, but his face was otherwise clean.
    We approached the group, and I felt another small wave of surprise when one of the men kissed another goodbye and they parted. How little I knew about these couples. Again I washed over with fear that I would say or do something stupid.
    “Hey, Brad, baby! I brought you a woman!” Nikki said.
    “Now whatever would I do with one of those?” he teased and pulled away from his friend. “Are you the photographer?” He extended a lean, tanned arm, his sleeves rolled partway to his elbow.
    My heart did a little flip. He was beautiful. I immediately reached for my internal snark. Mom always said, “Avoid the good-looking men. They only want good-looking girls, and never the same one for long.”
    Mom’s words blew away as I held out my hand to him, enraptured by his face. This is what they mean by chiseled, I thought, staring at his jaw. And his eyes were crystal and friendly. And the lips. Nikki hadn’t been kidding. Defined on the edge, then soft in the middle. Probably every woman—and man—wanted to lock into them.
    My hand missed his completely, slashing the air and swinging to smack against my thigh. I blushed furiously, bringing it back up.
    “Let’s try that again,” he said, smiling, and leaned forward to grasp my fingers. He lifted them to his lips and for a moment I forgot everything, our company of gay softball players, Fern, even my soon-to-be ex-husband. The emotional torrent of the week rolled away and calmed.
    “Nikki said your name is…Zest?” he asked.
    I heard his words but couldn’t quite yet formulate a response, still zinging with the warm kiss on my fingers that had now cooled, the grip of his hand on mine, and the startling perfection of his face. He should model, I thought, already posing him, leaning against a stone wall, lying on a hardwood floor, laughing in a lake, water droplets falling from his hair—
    “She’s got it pretty bad,” Nikki said. “Give her a minute.”
    Bradford grinned at me, and I realized, slowly, with increasing heat, that I was making a fool of myself. I jerked my hand back.
    “Yes, Zest. My mom…thought it was funny. She liked the soap.” Good God, I never told anyone that. Someone needed to break my blurt button.
    “That’s better than being named after fruit scrapings,” Bradford said. “But not quite as good as bubbly.”
    “I don’t…consider myself…bubbly,” I said, willing the frenetic thoughts to slow down. But God, if I put him with Fern, I’d be famous. Maybe I could convince them do a session. But the thought of him admiring my friend made me trill with jealousy.
    “Nice,” Nikki said. “You two get acquainted. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
    “That’s a short list,” Bradford said, cocking a half