“I figure it would only take about thirty days for us to decide if we’d rather kiss or kill each other. Once we decide that, we’d be good to go. I would have no delusions about you being any kind of submissive, sweet, helpful girlfriend. You’d already know that I don’t need a submissive, sweet, helpful girlfriend. There would be no learning curve. No disappointments. You’d just be you, I’d be me, and we’d already know it all going in.”

She looks up at me, not trying to move away from me. I also keep my body very close to hers and just meet her gaze steadily, my arm still up. 

Finally, she nods. “That’s a very good point,” she says. “Except…”

Of course there’s an except. 

“Except?”

“I don’t think we’d need that long to decide on the kiss or kill thing.”

“How long do you think it would take?”

She actually looks me up and down. Our mothers can’t see the way her gaze tracks over me from the position we’re in, but I do. Definitely. 

“Probably about forty-eight hours. Some of it would depend on how good a cook you are.” Then she turns away from me with her coffee and our scones and starts toward the door. “See you later,” she says to our moms. 

And I’m left frothing my milk and wondering if it’s possible to decide in one day which of those things I’d rather do to her. 

Or if it’s possible to want to do both equally.