His fingers closed around mine. “Not so bad, right?”
“I don’t get the point. I’m not just going to pick up someone’s hand.” My words came out monotone. No, worse: rude. My self-defense mechanism.
“The point is for you to relax. I can tell you how to flirt, but if you don’t have the experience, the muscle memory, all the intellectual knowledge in the world won’t help your game. If you’ve never held hands before, the first time you do is going to feel a lot harder than every other time.”
So the next time I held someone’s hand, my heart wouldn’t feel like it was about to explode? “Okay.”
“It’s like—to prepare for interviews, you’re supposed to picture yourself doing well, saying hello to the interviewer, being confident. Picture yourself in situations and imagine them going well. And mimic the actual conditions, if you can. I read an article about a kid who wanted to get into Juilliard, so he’d go running before practicing to pump himself full of adrenaline while he played, like he would be at the actual audition.”
I blinked. Popular, devil-may-care Tyler, getting excited about articles on interviewing? “Interesting.”
A knock on the door sounded, and Elena poked her head in. I jerked my hand out of Tyler’s so violently, I flailed and almost fell sideways in my armchair.
Elena, kindly, pretended not to notice. “How would you kids like to decorate gingerbread houses in a bit?”
“Mama.” Tyler rolled his eyes.
“It’ll be fun!” To me, she said, “We do it every year. It’s a tradition.”
“Mama, no.”
I, on the other hand, already needed a break from hand-holding. What would he want me to do next, sustained eye contact? Good lord. “I’ve never decorated gingerbread houses before. Sounds fun.”
Tyler groaned.
“Good!” his mom said. “Wonderful! The gingerbread will be done cooling in about an hour. I’ll get you guys then.”
When she left, I turned to Tyler. “Decorating gingerbread houses with your moms is pretty freaking wholesome.”
“They’re just making sure we’re not having sex, you know.”
I blanched. “What?”
He shrugged.
“Why would they think they needed to?”
“It’s their standard policy when I’m alone with a girl.”
“Evendownstairs?” A flash, again, of Tyler twined around a girl. Embarrassed heat twisted in my stomach at the memory of his lazy grin and all that naked flesh. A reminder how the Tyler before me, focused solely on me, was not the Tyler I usually saw out and about. “They’ve never walked in on you, have they?”
“Not quite.”
I gaped at him. “ ‘Not quite’ sounds way too close for comfort.”
“It was fairly scarring, yes.”
“Though—you said they’re cool with sex?”
He made a face. “In theory. They’re less cool now when it’s actually happening.”
“Why do they evenknowyou’re having sex?”
He laughed. “They insisted I be open with them. But also, they said I’m not as good at hiding things as I think I am.”
“Sheesh.”
“Right?” He shook his head. “Parents. Real ego killers.”
