Running Mate

“I stand corrected,” Addison replied. Even though she seemed to be agreeing with me, I could tell she remained unimpressed. I didn’t know why I gave two shits about what she thought about me, but I did. I wanted her to see that there was far more to me than the image the media portrayed of me. Huh, that was a new one. Do I really care? She’ll be a nobody to me in nine months.

“Let’s get back to the bullshit questionnaire, shall we?”

“Fine.”

“Now it’s your turn. What’s your favorite movie?”

“The Sound of Music.”

I groaned. “Christ. You’re one of those people, aren’t you?”

“If you mean the type of people who enjoy culture through musical theater, then yes, I am one of those people.”

My mother had tortured us with musicals when I was growing up, taking us on theater trips to New York City at least once a month during the fall and spring. It was hell. “There’s nothing more annoying than someone belting show tunes.”

A wicked look flashed in Addison’s eyes. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“I’m sure you will,” I grumbled as I glanced back down at the sheet. “Favorite type of music?”

“Country and pop,” Addison replied.

“Rap and rock for me.”

“And here I thought you were going to say classical,” she teased as she scribbled my response down.

“Actually, I am a fan of the symphony.”

Addison’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Let’s see if you throw me with your favorite food.”

“Dim sum, preferably from Chinatown.”

“Interesting. I would have thought maybe hotdogs and beer from Yankee Stadium.”

“Those come in at a close second. What about you?”

“Cornbread dressing like my grandmother makes.”

“I prefer stuffing.”

Addison tsked at me. “And you call yourself a Southerner.”

“I might’ve grown up in Virginia, but my home is in New York.”

Since I already knew her feelings about the city, Addison moved on to another question. "What is your ideal date?"

"Fucking."

She rolled my eyes. "Besides that."

I shrugged. "I don't date a lot."

"Surely you don’t meet a woman and immediately go horizontal—"

"I limit being horizontal."

Her brow creased in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, I like to fuck outside the box."

Pursing her lips at me, Addison countered, "I would assume you have to be inside the

box, so to speak, for it to be considered fucking."

I widened my eyes at her before bursting out laughing. Holy shit. Had Addison actually said that? Man, I had missed the mark with this girl. She was far from some boring prude with a stick up her ass. "That's a good one, but what I meant was the positions I like and where I like to fuck are outside the box."

"Thank you so much for the clarification."

"You're welcome."

"And what I meant was there has to be some kind of lead-up before you just get to sex, like dinner or a movie."

"Yeah. I do like to buy a woman dinner first."

"How solicitous of you."

With a wink, I said, “It’s more about the fact that they’re going to need the nutrition to keep up with my stamina.”

She slowly shook her head back and forth at me. “You know, it’s amazing the way your sex-obsessed brain works. Like how is it possible you’re even able to keep a job?”

“I’m very good at multitasking.”

“Let me guess, there’s some underlying innuendo there?”

I laughed. “Maybe.”

“Typical.” After flipping a page on the questionnaire, Addison’s eyes suddenly bulged.

“Oh. My. God,” she hissed.

“What does it say?”

“Something truly horrible and disgusting.”

“What?” I questioned before peering at the sheet to see what could possibly be so repulsive.

“They suggest we practice embracing and holding hands to ensure familiarity.”

With a frustrated roll of my eyes, I closed the folder and tossed it onto the table. “I can’t believe you got your panties in such a twist over something as simple as holding hands and hugging.”

“That’s not it.” She jabbed the folder with her index finger. “They want us to…” She shuddered.

“What? Sacrifice a virgin? Rob a bank?”

“Kiss.”

“What’s the big deal with that?”

Addison stared at me like I was a mutant. “I don’t know you.”

“You know more about me than most women when I kiss them.”

“Unlike you, I’m far more discerning about who I kiss.”

“Why? It’s just a pair of lips rubbing together.” I flicked my tongue suggestively back and forth. “And there’s that.”

“Spare me.”

I winked. “I will—just this once.”

“Look, I know it’s probably difficult for your mind to absorb, but kissing is a very intimate action.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I cocked my head at her. “Speaking of action, you might be a hell of lot less uptight if you got more of it, and I mean kissing at the very least.”