“Actually it feels more like bursting a blister. Sort of painful but mostly a huge relief.”
“Because you always wanted to tell me how to bust your chops?”
She intended sarcasm, she really did. She intended it hard.
Only he didn’t take it that way at all. He answered it straight, and sort of softly.
“Because you’re the only person outside the team I’ve told.”
Then carried right on as though it didn’t mean anything at all.
“Now…when I lunge I tend to throw everything I got into it. So what you have to do is use it against me. You have to come back at me immediately, while I’m still committed to it.”
“Tate, if you lunge at me chances are I’m going to pass out.”
“You stood your ground when Jason threatened you with a fucking truck, Letty. If that doesn’t make you lose your goddamn mind, nothing on earth will.”
He paused then, but not to give her time to process this bombshell. He just needed it to clear the table to one side, so he could get into what she assumed was a lunge position—left leg crooked, right leg back, shoulders forward. While she stood there, heart suddenly thumping slow and thick, mouth too open, eyes too wide. If he glanced at her for even a second he would see how much he’d just affected her. How awesome it was to hear him talk as though she was brave.
But he didn’t. Like with the confession about his weaknesses—he just hit it and carried on.
“Okay, so you see how the plane of my thigh is completely open here? You need to use that. You need to use it like a step—just put your foot right up on it.”
“I really don’t think I can put my foot up on your leg.”
“Sure you can. Just give it a shot.”
“You say that like you’re not seven hundred feet tall. I think I might have to do the splits just to get anywhere close to your thigh,” she said, though that wasn’t really what bothered her.
It was the thought of what she might reveal when she did it. She was wearing jeans, but the jeans would probably pull taut in places she didn’t want them to. Parts of her would crease and form rolls—and then there was her lack of balance. He knew she would wobble.
Shedidwobble when she tentatively attempted it.
She gingerly lifted her right leg, and almost went sprawling.
And there was no relief when she finally planted her foot.
“Now just climb. Get ahold of my shoulder and climb until you’re behind me.”
“Are you sure this is a method of defeating you? It sounds more like you want to help me audition for Cirque du Soleil. In which case I should probably remind you: I have all the coordination of a drunk puppy.”
“Seriously, just try it. It’s way easier than it looks.”
“And you know this how? Had a lot of girls springboard off your thigh?”
“Sure, it’s my favorite thing to do fromThe Kama Sutra.”
She jerked back at that—though not all the way off him.
And curiously, when she spoke her tone seemed to lack any real anger.
“Are you serious Tate? Is this just you goofing off because—”
“No, no, Letty I’m kidding, okay, that was me kidding. There is no thigh springboard inThe Kama Sutra.I swear to god. That was just a joke come on. Come on, just put your hands on my shoulder.”
“I…okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that.”
She reached forward, tentative as a fawn. Eyes constantly on his face, to judge whether some sudden terrible shock was coming. Yet when it did come, shestillwasn’t prepared.
