Her eyes crinkle with amusement over the rim of her mug. “Don't let it go to your head.” The smile fades into something more thoughtful. “But I've been thinking about what you said. About confidence being something you practice until it becomes real.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, watching you last night, seeing how easy it is for you to talk to people, especially those women who kept gravitating toward you.” She pauses, taking a sip of her coffee. “It made me realize that maybe some of my insecurities aren't just about confidence. Maybe they're about experience.”
I feel my stomach tighten. “What kind of experience?”
“That's what I want to talk to you about.” She sets down her mug and reaches for a notebook on the counter. “I made a list of things I'm curious about. Things I'd like your help with, if you're willing.”
She hands me the handwritten list, and I stare at it. Her careful cursive loops across the page look like something out of a finishing school manual, which makes the content even more jarring.
Stella’s Confidence List:
1. How to flirt without being obvious
2. Sexy but classy outfit choices
3. Body language that says "I'm interested"
4. What kind of bras/underwear men prefer
5. How to kiss in a way that makes him want more
6. Grooming preferences (down there???)
7. How to make the first move w/o seeming desperate
8. The art of the BJ – technique questions
9. How to tell if he's into kinky things
10. Positions and what guys actually want in bed
Jesus Christ. I run a hand through my hair and look up at Stella, who's still leaning against the counter like she's waiting for test results. Her cheeks are pink, but her chin is set in that determined way that means she's serious about this.
“Stella,” I say carefully, “some of these things?—”
“Are too personal?” she finishes, her Southern accent creeping in. “I know it's awkward, but Brandon, you have six sisters. You know what women worry about. And you're…” She waves her hand vaguely in my direction. “You know. Experienced.”
“Experienced,” I repeat dryly.
“Don't make me spell it out. You date. A lot. Successfully.” She leans forward, her hands clasped. “I'm offering to return the favor, you know. Whatever you need help with. Work stuff, personal assistant tasks. I'll organize your entire life if you want.”
I suddenly feel the weight of everything I've been carrying. She waits, and something about her patience makes the words tumble out.
“You mentioned something about other career options for me. I'm wondering if?—”
“Yes, I can totally help you with that!”
“This shoulder thing has me sidelined, and I'm starting to think about what comes next.” I walk over to the couch and hear her soft steps follow. “The truth is, I have no idea what I'd do if I can't perform stunts anymore. My dad keeps hinting about coming back to New York to work in the family business, but that feels like giving up on everything I've built here.”
Stella's expression shifts to what I recognize as her professional mode. “Are you kidding me? Brandon, you have so many options within the industry.”
“Like what? Once my body can't handle the physical demands anymore, I don't know what to do.”
“It doesn't mean your career in this field has to be over.” She sits on the couch next to me and pulls her legs up under her. “You don't just disappear when you age out of performing. Let me help you. This is what I do.”
I look at her, filled with skepticism…but maybe with a side of hope.
