“So, who’s on your list?” Nick looks eagerly at me.
I take a sip of my coffee. “What list?”
“You know. The list.” He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “She’s on mine.” He nods toward the TV.
“Keira Knightly?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“I still have no clue what you’re talking about.”
He rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard of the list. Where have you been?”
I shrug. “Are you going to elaborate, then?”
“It’s a list of five famous people you’re allowed to sleep with if you’re in a relationship,” he says. “I thought everyone had one.”
“Not me. I’m happy with you.” I squeeze his hand.
“You know I love you, Chloe.” He leans forward and kisses me. “But I’d absolutely bang Keira if she came onto me.”
“Hey!” I give him a light whack on the leg with my hand.
“Your girlfriend is sitting right here, you know.”
“The point is,” he says, yawning, “that it’s very unlikely to happen. So it’s pretty safe.”
“But what if it did happen?”
He bops me playfully on the nose. “Chlo, I promise you if you give me a list and one of those people on the list wants to sleep with you, you have my full blessing.”
I cross my arms. “Really?”
“Yup. So, here’s my list. Keira Knightly, Jennifer Lawrence, Taylor Swift, Emilia Clarke, Emma Watson. So, tell me yours.” He grins at me. “I can already guess one of them.”
I feel my cheeks heat up. “Zendaya, for sure. Harry Styles. Chris Hemsworth. Mila Kunis. And…” I think for a moment. “Will you hate me if there are more women than men on my list?”
“Of course not. I think it’s hot you’re into women.” He pulls my head toward his and kisses me again. “So, number five?”
“Georgia Abrams,” I say.
He frowns. “Never heard of her.”
I pick up my phone, google her name, and thrust a photo under his face. “Her.”
He nods. “Okay, so she’s hot. You really like your brunettes, don’t you?”
I blush again. I’ve been out for a few months, but it still feels weird to be talking about women like this. I’m certain I’m bi, but I’ve never even kissed a girl. Nick and I have been dating for almost three years, and before that, I was firmly in the closet.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” he says. “So, who is she?”
“Lead singer for Salted Pretzel.”
“Never heard of them either.” He takes my phone and types something into the search bar. “Babe, I don’t know if she qualifies as a famous person. They haven’t even released an album or anything.”
“They’ve had a couple of singles. I saw them on the TV the other day.”
“Fair enough. I guess that’s okay, then.”
“So, I’m allowed to sleep with her?” I tease.
He takes both my hands in his. “You’re absolutely allowed to sleep with anyone on your list as long as I’m allowed to sleep with anyone on mine.”
“All right. Deal.”
“Yes!” He punches
