"Of course you did."
She picks up her phone again, scrolling. "Okay, so. First: proximity. We need to be okay with close physical contact. Standing close, sitting close, that kind of thing."
"I can stand close to you."
"Prove it."
It's a challenge, and I've never been good at backing down from those. I close the distance between us in two steps. Close enough to see the small scar above her eyebrow and count the freckles across her nose.
"Close enough?" My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
She swallows. "That's—yes. That's good. But you're tense."
"I'm not tense."
"Your shoulders are up around your ears and you're barely breathing." She reaches up, and her hands settle on my shoulders. "Relax, Lockwood. I'm not going to bite."
Her touch is light, professional even, but my body doesn't get the memo. Heat pools low in my gut, and I'm suddenly very aware of how close she's standing, how her sweater keeps slipping off her shoulder. I shift my weight, trying to get myself under control before this becomes embarrassingly obvious.
"You're overthinking this," she says quietly.
"I don't overthink."
"You absolutely overthink. I can see it happening." Her hands slide down slightly, and I force myself to breathe normally. "This is supposed to be natural. Easy. Like we've done it a thousand times."
"Maybe that's the problem."
"What is?"
"We haven't done it a thousand times. We've barely done it at all." I'm aware of how close we're standing, how her sweater's slipped further off her shoulder, revealing smooth skin that I have no business noticing. "What if we can't fake it well enough?"
"Then we practice until we can." She steps back, grabbing her phone again. "Next item: casual touching. Hand-holding, arm around shoulders, that kind of thing. We did hand-holding at the café, so let's try something else."
"Like what?"
"Turn around."
I raise an eyebrow but do as she asks. A moment later, I feel her arms slide around my waist from behind, her cheek pressing against my back.
"What are you doing?" The question comes out strangled.
"Back hug. Very common couple behavior. How does it feel?"
My heart hammers. I want to turn around and pull her close.
"Fine," I manage.
"You're tense again."
"Because this is—" I stop, not sure how to explain that this casual touch feels anything but casual. "Can I turn around?"
"Sure."
I do, and suddenly she's in my arms, looking up at me with those hazel eyes that seem to see more than I want her to. My hands settle on her waist automatically, and this feels dangerous.
"See?" she says, and her voice is slightly breathless. "Not so hard."
"Piper—"
