I can’t help the laugh that overtakes me as I let out a deep, loud laugh at his expression. Tears start pooling at the edge of my eyes and I wipe them away, saying, “You should have seen your face.” I can barely contain my laughter now. Preston just stares at me as I try to get my composure.
“You thought”—breath—“I grew up”—breath—“with Coach Mike Crenshaw”—deep breath—“and didn’t know whatBull Durhamwas?” I burst out laughing again. There is no reason this should be that funny.
“She’s got jokes, ladies and gentleman,” Preston says to a fake audience finally barking out a laugh.
My stomach clenches making me laugh harder. Tears spring from my eyes. Preston stares at me falling apart with an amused smile. Fanning my face, I look at him. Instinctively, Preston reaches out and wipes a tear away, effectively stopping my laughter. His thumb is coarse against my cheek. His eyes sparkle in the reflection of the sun locked onto mine.
A few beats pass before Preston clears his throat, dropping his hand. Tension lingers in the air as we settle into a comfortable silence. Peeking out of the corner of my eye, he looks unaffected, but the pulse at his throat beats rapidly. We’re walking a tightrope, prone to snap at any moment.
After dinner, we settle onto the couch with a glass of wine and a beer.
“Ready to watch Ivory Crenshaw in her infamous teen drama?” Preston teases, pulling up the streaming service he set up for us to watch movies and shows. Lucky for me, my show is one of the top streamed.
“Oh, yay. I can’t wait,” I drone sarcastically. “Haven’t you had enough of me in real life?”
“Never.” And I feel the truth in thosewords. Preston sits on the opposite end of the couch. We aren’t touching but if I stretched my legs out, I could just touch his thigh.
“Here we go.” Preston drops the remote and slings his arm over the back of the couch. If I reached my arm up, I could touch his hand. The awareness has my heart beating faster. He snaps his fingers.
“Huh?” I look up at him. Preston covers his mouth hiding his grin.
“Anything I should know?”
“My acting was still raw. Don’t hold it against me.” Anxiety over Preston seeing my early teen years makes my skin prickle.
“We all had our awkward years. It’s okay.” The opening credits start and flashes of my character fill the screen. “You were blonde?” Preston’s brows meet his hairline.
“A very bad blonde.” I cringe at how bleached my hair is in the shot. It did not match my skin tone at all.
The high school drama plays out on screen and a particularly racy scene is coming up. Preston’s intake of breath is noticeable. He fidgets in his seat, crossing his legs and putting his hands in his lap.Is he turned on by teenage Ivory?
“Chelsea. Scandalous,” Preston gasps as my character, Chelsea, texts someone that isn’t her boyfriend an inappropriate picture. “Is this the love triangle?” His question is non-judgmental.
“Yeah, they started teasing it early on but it doesn’t come to a head until a few seasons later.”
Preston hums. He repositions himself, getting more comfortable on the couch and propping his head on the armrest. His legs are stretched out, closing the distance between us. Burrowing into my corner, my feet hit the back of Preston’s calves. He looks at me briefly, lips tugging upward but doesn’t move his legs. The show plays on the big screen but all I can focus on is the tension buzzing with a life of its own between us.
Occasionally, Preston asks me a question or comments onwhat the characters are doing but otherwise we are quiet. My eyes are heavy but I don’t want to go to my room yet.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” Preston is standing above me wearing only gray sweatpants. I must have fallen asleep.
“Hi,” I squeak out and duck under the covers. Preston pulls it back.
“Whatcha doing?” His lips tip up at me hiding under the blanket.
“Waiting for you to walk away so I can get up before I die of embarrassment.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?” Preston looks puzzled for a second as he cocks his head peering down at me. Then he picks up our glasses taking them to the kitchen for the night, calling over his shoulder “You look cute when you wake up.” Patting my hair to make sure it isn’t completely wild and straightening my clothes, I stand and stretch.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I can’t believe you weren’t interested in what was happening between Chelsea and Rice.”
I snort. “I know what happens between Chelsea and Rice. I lived it.”
Preston chuckles. “It’s pretty good. I don’t know what you’re talking about, saying your acting was rough.” He lifts my chin with a finger when I dip my head. “Give yourself more credit, Hollywood.”
“I have some calls tomorrow, so I should get to bed.”
