“Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm. “Yeah, I can see the difference.”
“Good. Now you try it on me.”
I attempt to replicate what he just did, focusing on his eyes and trying to project genuine interest. It feels awkward at first, but his eyes dart off to the side, and I know I'm getting somewhere.
“Better,” he says, his voice rougher than it was a moment ago. “But don't overthink it. The key is to actually be interested, not to perform interest.”
I nod, filing that away. “Okay, so how do I find ways to touch him but not in a creepy way?”
“Just nothing obvious, small moments of contact that create connection.” He demonstrates by reaching over to brush an imaginary piece of lint off my shoulder. The brief contact sends electricity down my arm. “Or, if he says something funny, you might touch his arm while you laugh.”
His hand is still resting on my shoulder, and I'm suddenly very aware of the warmth of his palm through my sweater.
“Like this?” I reach over and place my hand on his forearm, letting my fingers linger just long enough to feel his muscles tense under my touch.
“Exactly like that,” he says, but his voice is softer.
We're sitting close enough that I can see his whiskey-colored eyes, can smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of whatever soap he uses. For a second, I forget we're supposed to be practicing for Mason.
“What else?” I ask, not moving my hand.
“You could copy his body language,” he says, seeming to refocus. “If he leans in, you lean in. If he crosses his arms, you cross yours. It creates subconscious connection.”
“Does it work?”
“Try it.”
Brandon leans back against the couch cushions, and I mirror the movement. He tilts his head slightly to the right, and I do the same. There's something hypnotic about following his movements, like we're dancing without music.
“Huh, I've never even thought about doing that,” I admit.
“It works,” he says, and there's something in his voice that makes me look at him more carefully. “Your body languageright now is telling me you're engaged, interested, maybe a little nervous but in a good way.”
“How so?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“You're leaning toward me instead of away. Your pupils are dilated. You're touching your hair, which usually means someone's feeling self-conscious but not uncomfortable.” His eyes drop to my lips for just a moment before meeting my gaze again. “It's all very attractive.”
The word hangs between us, and I feel heat creep up my neck. “So, this would work on Mason?”
“This would work on any man with a pulse,” he says quietly.
“Okay, let's talk about what I should wear.”
“Whatever you feel the most confident in.”
I have to think about that. “There was this dress I wore to Natalie's birthday party last year. Black, fitted, with this square neckline that showed just enough without being scandalous. I felt…powerful in it.”
“I remember that dress,” Brandon says immediately.
“You do?”
“Trust me, every guy at that party remembers that dress. You looked incredible.”
“Really?” I feel ridiculously pleased by this. “I thought maybe it was too much.”
“It was perfect. You walked in, and the entire room noticed. I watched at least three guys work up the courage to come talk to you.”
“I had no idea.”
