“Oh, hey, sorry.” Bo gently tosses his book and pencil onto the coffee table. “Didn’t hear you come in… and no, that’s okay.”
“You don’t have to stop on my account,” I say, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him.
“I already did one. I was just killing time.”
“I’m so full of soup, I could die happy.”
“How’ve you been feeling the last few days?”
“Before moving day, a lot better. I think the trips up and down stairs did me in, but I’ve been feeling great since too. No nausea.”
“Maybe it’s on its way out. That’s what the doctor said, right? Second trimester, it might just go away?” Bo relaxes into the couch, his arms spread on either side of him along the back. I turn sideways to face him, tucking my feet under me.
“Hopefully.” I look at him expectantly, spotting the cards behind him. “Shall we?” I ask.
Bo reaches for the arm of the cushion, where the unwrapped white box of twenty questions sits. Opening the box, he pulls out the instructions and reads them over. “There’s a suggested order. Do we care?”
“Nah, chaos mode. Shuffle and deal.”
He smirks, nodding as he begins shuffling the cards.
And Iknowit’s ridiculous. But the way Bo shuffles isverysexy. His massive hands dwarf the cards, the ease with which he trills the cards with his thumb, sliding them together. Maybe strip pokercouldbe fun.
No… no, Win.
“All right,” he says, lifting a card from the top of the pile. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I say, tugging my shirt away from my neck before clasping my hands in my lap.
“Would you like to be famous? If so, in what way?” Bo reads. “I’ll go?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“I wouldn’t want to be famous. I don’t hold a lot of weight to my opinions, and I think these days, famous people are expected to have a stance on everything. Twenty years ago, celebrities werejustcelebrities. Now, they’re visiting the United Nations and talking about nature conservation as if there aren’t more qualified people to do that.”
“But aren’t they just using their platform and position to help? They have the public’s attention. Why not use it?”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with trying to help… and I get that they hold a lot of public influence, so they probably should. I just don’t think I’d want that sort of attention onme. I’d rather just be mega-rich but not famous so I could give my money to the proper channels. To people who know how to use it for the most good. I’d like to staybehindthe curtain.”
I nod slowly, my eyes fixed on my lap as I reconsider my answer.
“Unless…” Bo says, dragging my attention back to his face. “I could be Andy Serkis.”
“Who on earth is Andy Serkis?”
“Exactly,” Bo says, grin tilted. “He’s an actor mostly known for performance capture roles for computer generated films. He was Gollum inLord of the Ringsand SnokeinStar Wars. And he’s been in a bunch of Marvel movies as well. He has all of these dream roles, but I bet he can go for a walk with his family and not be disturbed because no one really knows what he looks like.”
“They’d have to dragyou off those sets,” I say.
“I’d still be there. I’d live in the walls. Or I’d have stolen everything that wasn’t nailed down.”
“Oh wow. Imagine the state of your bedroom with allthosecollectibles.”
“See? It could be worse.” Bo exhales gently, his smile holding. “What about you?”
“I think I’d like to be famous but like more of the creative, lesser-known side of things. Like a director or a screenwriter or something where I get to go to all the events and meet cool people but mostly get to focus on the work and not the publicity ofbeingfamous. Like you said—it’s way too much public perception.”
“I could see you being a director,” Bo says.
