“So, uh…where’d you learn your technique?” I ask, trying not to stroke his ego any more by asking him how he got so amazing at giving massages.
“It sounds weird, but back in high school.”
“High school?”
“There was this girl named Kelsey in my chemistry class. I think she liked me and would always ask me to rub her back when we had double period. She told me I had deli-fingers.”
“Deli-fingers!?” I laugh. “Like…cold cuts?”
Anthony chuckles. “Deli like delicate.”
“Oh, that makes more sense.” And it’s true, but I don’t say that. But Anthony doesn’t let me off that easy.
“Do you agree?”
Shit.
“I mean…your technique is solid.” I’m trying so hard not to come right out and tell him that what he’s doing is driving me wild. He doesn’t need any more confidence or he might overflow with it.
