“He was half-asleep, but excited,” I say, thinking longer about the conversation and zeroing in on when Dad asked if Leo was a dancer. “Humor me, have you ever thought about being a dancer?”
“What are you talking about?” He sips his drink.
“As a career. The crowd loved your moves at karaoke. You took all those classes when you were younger.” I reflect on those adorable photos and the one video Mrs. Min kept of Leo doing hip-hop. “You clearly love it. What’s stopping you from pursuing that?”
“Money.” His tone is flat.
“If that wasn’t an obstacle,” I say. “What happens if we win? You get your cushion. Would that be something you’re interested in?” I don’t know why exactly I’m questioning him like this. The only reason I can think of is that I’ve seen the way his whole aura heightens each time a song he loves comes on. “Wouldn’t it be amazing to get paid for something that makes you so happy?”
“It would, but leaving your livelihood up to chance is a major risk.”
“Isn’t that what we’re going to do onMadcap Market?”
He bobbles his head. “I suppose you have a point.”
In the bar lighting, dim and a bit blue, Leo looks younger, more innocent. He’s not masquerading as someone who uses charisma and his good looks as a front. With cheese crusted in the corner of his mouth, he reminds me of the kid in the dance recital costume from the scrapbook.
I grab a bar napkin, dip a corner in my water glass, and wipe his lips clean. It leaves behind a light, enticing sheen. I want to kiss him so badly. I don’t care who sees. But this conversation feels too important to derail. “I think this risk has proven successful so far, don’t you?” I ask it softly; I’m afraid he might hear too many emotions wedged inside the words.
Whatever happens at the rehearsal tomorrow and the taping on Thursday is out of our hands for the most part, but what transpires between us after is ours to direct.
“I do.” He bites his lip.
Replaying Dad’s sentiment about me deserving someone nice, I decide to take another risk. “Sorry if I sound like a fifth grader passing a note in social studies, but I like you, Leo.”
“In case it wasn’t obvious from the past couple days and what we just did upstairs, I like you, too.” Leo’s sincerity unmasks itself. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. All sharp lines and strong muscles and sweet brown eyes and caring words.
“You mean this hasn’t just been about the sex and the show for you?” It was easy to think that. He was a place for me to pour my trip-based desires. I was a place for him to lean on and get off with.
“I’m not going to lie,” he says, pushing our plate away. “It’s mostly been about the sex and the show, but my mom likes you, I had fun cooking with you, and our sex has been good.”
“Just good?”
“Shut up,” he says with a light, playful nudge. “It’s been great. There? You happy?”
“Very.”
“I guess what I’m getting at is that I can’t say any of that stuff about half the guys I’ve gone out with in the last few years,” he says. “Aside from...”
He doesn’t even want to say Carter’s name now, which I get. “Dating is hard. Meeting people. Testing compatibility. Making sure they laugh at your jokes even if they’re horrendously cheesy and unfunny.”
“Is that one of your relationship must-haves?” he asks, looking a bit skeptical.
“Yeah. You don’t have any weird ones? Everybody has weird ones.”
“I do,” he says, sounding bashful all of a sudden.
“Uh, okay. So, spill.”
“It’s...” Why is he hesitating? “It’s karaoke. The guy has to be willing to sing duets with me at karaoke.”
A card flips over in my mind, revealing a truth I hadn’t been anticipating. “Wait, so last night you were...”
“Testing you? Yeah.” His posture closes off as if he’s been caught.
I can’t suppress my smile. “That’s supremely adorable.”
“Adorable? No. Uh-uh. I’m notadorable.” He traces his hands down his body. “Look at me.”
