“That’s kind of like football for me.”
I lean forward. “Really? You get that into…throwing the ball? Or whatever.”
He laughs, a deep rumble of a sound that makes my tummy flutter. “I’m a corner, so I don’t do a lot of throwing. But I’m always deciphering the offense, trying to figure out their next move. I have to read the body language of the quarterback. His facial expressions. It takes so much focus that I forget everything else. It’s liberating.”
“Damn,” I mutter. “I don’t know what any of those words mean, but it sounds so similar to what I feel. It’s like an out-of-body experience.”
His smile is so big that his eyes have twin creases at the edges. “Well, I’m very much in my body because I need to use it, so it’s kind of more like…my mind expands and becomes part of the game.”
“Yes!” I slap my thigh. “I get that too. My mind becomes the whole story. I get to be in every character’s head at the same time.”
He reaches out his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The warmth of his fingers makes my skin tingle. “Maybe that’s why your fanfic is so good.”
I jerk back. “You’ve never read it. I mean, besides…what Harper read aloud.”
“Yes, I have read it. On more than just that day.” A rueful smile rises to his lips. “I’d never read fanfic before. I used to think it was so nerdy, but I actually liked what you wrote. It’s why I boughtPride and Prejudice.”
Something warm and soft fills my chest. To fight it, I shoot him my best attempt at an Elizabeth Bennet style saucy smile. “Were you in love with Mr. Darcy?”
He snorts, shaking his head. “No, Amelia, I was not. I actually think Lizzy let him off too easily. He was such a dick to her.”
I scowl. “He was only a dick at first. He has the best transformative character arc of all time. That’s what I love about the book. And he was hot even when he was a dick. I would have said yes to his first proposal.”
“So you like dicks, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “Your double entendre just ruined everything. I was actually enjoying this conversation.”
His face sobers. “I didn’t mean it as a double entendre. I’m asking you if you like dickish guys.” His lips quirk. “Like me.”
“No,” I say immediately and fight the smile tugging at my lips. “In real life, I like sweet guys. Guys who listen.”
Like you’re listening right now.
We stare at each other for a long moment. With Tristan’s soft smile and his eyes crinkling at the corners, he looks almost affectionate.
I can’t help but be affected by it. He just spent the last ten minutes buttering me up talking aboutPride and Prejudice.
Tristan clears his throat. “So I was thinking…we should probably practice getting physical. We don’t want it to seem awkward or forced when we do it on camera.”
My heart skips a beat, and I swallow hard. “What? Like holding hands and stuff?”
He looks like he wants to laugh. “No, I was thinking a little bit more intimate than that. I’ll need to kiss you at some point during this competition.”
I nod slowly. The thought of being publicly touchy with Tristan makes heat pool in my lower belly.
“Okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “We can try.”
“Great.” He shifts closer to me, his muscular arm brushing against mine, sending shivers down my spine. “Let’s start with something simple. Put your hand on my thigh.”
“Wh-what?” I stammer, staring at him in disbelief.
He laughs heartily, but it doesn’t sound like ridicule. Those eyes are still soft and warm.
“You can do it.” His voice is gentle but firm.
After taking a deep breath, I reach out and place my trembling hand on his thigh. The heat of his body sears through my fingers.
“Good,” Tristan murmurs, reaching over to cover my hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
