“No wonder you were off your game,” Griffin says. “You were playing nervous. Hey, congrats, man. I’m glad she said yes.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say, and something turns over in my stomach. I’ve been pretty self-aware going into all this, but the deeper we get, the more I’m starting to wonder if I can handle it. If I can truly keep my feelings sorted.
I say goodbye to Griffin and pick up the champagne, then make my way back to Sarah.
“How did it go?” she asks as I slide into the booth beside her. I move her champagne a little closer, and she lifts it to take a sip. “Did you tell him?”
“I did.”
Sarah scoots a little closer and slides her fingers through my hair just above my ear. Her hand lingers there, brown eyes on mine. I’m surprised by the sudden touch, but I’m not about to complain.
“Is he still watching?” she asks, her voice soft, and a twinge of disappointment pushes through me. I can’t keep forgetting that this is all for show.
I glance toward Griffin. “Yeah. He is.”
She drops her hand back in her lap andbites her lip. “So what’s our play here? Is seeing us enough? Or should we leave no room for doubt?”
If I had any sense of self-preservation, I would retreat. Instead, I lean in closer. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m actually not one who’s big into public displays of affection. But considering the circumstances, and since we have an audience…” Her eyes drop to my lips, and I smile playfully.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Sarah?”
“I mean, no,” she says with a scoff. “Of course not. I’m just saying it might be helpful in our present situation. It would have to be natural. Chill. Like we’ve done it a thousand times.”
I let out a little chuckle. “That’s a high bar. Asking me to kiss you for the first time…and be chill about it.”
“Right,” she says, like she genuinely thinks I’m joking. “Because I’m honestly so intimidating.”
“Clearly you don’t see yourself the way I see you. Kissing someone as beautiful as you will always be a big deal no matter how many times it happens.”
Her eyes drop to her lap, and she breathes out a laugh as she shakes her head. “I think you’re just saying that. Like I’m one of your youth hockey players who’sskating with heart.”
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter if we’re pretending. I just want Sarah to believe she reallyisthat beautiful. That she has no reason to doubt herself. “That’s not what this is,” I say. “Some things are just objectively true. Youarebeautiful, Sarah.”
She holds my gaze, and I can tell she’s fighting, like she just doesn’t want to accept the words as true.
“I can tell you want to deflect,” I say. “Don’t do it.”
She presses her lips together like she’sfighting a smile. “It’s just easy to say that when I’m all dressed up. But you haven’t seen me at my worst.” She lifts her arms and wraps them around my neck, her fingers brushing against my hairline. “Bedhead. Giant glasses. The imprint of the book I fell asleep reading smooshed into my cheek.”
I shift a hand to her hip and tug her a little closer. “Is that something that happens a lot?”
“More than I’m proud to admit,” she says.
“I doubt it makes a difference. And I like your glasses. The green ones, especially.”
Her eyes light up. “Those are my favorites.”
I pick up her champagne and hand it to her, then grab my own glass.
“Are we making a toast?” she asks, and I nod.
“We are,” I say. “And then I’m going to kiss you like I’ve done it a thousand times.”
“Like kissing is old news,” she says.
“Totally boring,” I add.
