I burst out laughing. “Holy shit, that was even worse. No wonder girls don’t want to fuck you.”
“I said nothing about—” he sputters, his face turning an impressive shade of crimson.
I raise an eyebrow. “No? Then why would you invite Serena over to your place?”
He looks away, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth.
“That’s what I thought.” I move closer, enjoying the way he tenses up. “Look, your problem is you’re trying to be this sanitized Disney Channel version of a guy. Girls can smell the fakeness. You need to be real, show some actual interest.”
“I do show interest,” he protests.
“In what? Her academic achievements? Her volunteer work?” I roll my eyes. “I’m sure that’s all very impressive, but you need to show interest in her. The actual person. Make her feel seen.”
Emmett falls silent, and I can practically see the gears turning in his perfect little head.
“Here, let me show you.” I step back, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. “Pay attention.”
I soften my expression, letting my eyes warm as I look at him. When I speak, my voice drops to a lower register, smooth and genuine. “That blue brings out your eyes. Makes them even more intense than usual.” I offer a small, almost shy smile. “Do you know how distracting it is when you’re focused on something? I can never look away.”
Emmett blinks, caught off guard by the shift in my demeanor, and he swallows hard.
“See? Simple compliment, but specific to the person. Not some generic bullshit.” I toy with my lip ring, flicking it with my tongue—a habit I’ve had since I got it pierced last year. “Your turn.”
He tries again, this time making an effort to maintain eye contact. “I like the way you explain things in class. You make complex ideas sound simple.”
“Better,” I nod. “Still too formal, but at least it’s specific. Now try something a little more…suggestive.”
“Suggestive?” He shifts his weight, a nervous habit I’ve noticed before. His fingers fidget with the hem of his t-shirt, another tell.
“Yeah, you know, something that hints you’re attracted to her physically, not just her big brain.”
Emmett’s eyes dart to the floor, the wall, anywhere but at me. “I…I’m not sure…”
I sigh. “Fine, I’ll show again.” I step closer, invading his personal space just enough to make him uncomfortable, but not enough to break my no-touching rule. My voice drops even lower. “Every time you lean over the table, I get distracted by the way your shirt pulls across your shoulders. Makes me wonder what you’d look like without it.”
A flush appears on Emmett’s neck and his cheeks. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.
“Too much?” I ask, knowing damn well it was perfect.
“Just…different,” he manages.
I grin, enjoying this more than I should. “That’s the point. You want her to know you’re attracted to her, not offering her a business partnership.”
Something shifts in me as I watch Emmett struggle to find his composure. It’s not just the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Perfect fumble—there’s something else, something that nudges at the edge of my awareness. I push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.
“Let me try once more. Pay attention to the progression.” I move even closer, my eyes never leaving his. “I’ve been watching the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking hard.” My voice is a near whisper now. “Makes me think about all the other things I’d like to see between those lips.”
Emmett’s eyes widen, and I swear I can hear his heart pounding from where I stand. His ears turn bright red, and he steps back, bumping into the coffee table.
“Jesus, Kade,” he mutters.
A strange sense of satisfaction washes over me. Breaking through Emmett’s carefully constructed walls feels like a victory—like I’ve found a crack in his facade. The power dynamic has shifted, and for once, I’m the one in control.
But there’s more to it than that. Something about the way his green eyes darken when he’s flustered, how his breath catches when I push too far—it triggers something unexpected in my gut. A flutter of…I don’t even have a name for it.
I mask my confusion with more babbling. “And that’s how it’s done. You gradually escalate, read their responses. If they’re into it, you keep going. If not, you back off.”
“I don’t think I can say things like that,” Emmett admits, running a hand through his hair again. It’s starting to dry now, the damp strands turning a lighter shade of blonde.
