Now I’m instantly hard, too, imagining all the dirty possibilities for making up. I shift in my seat, hoping my boner’s not as obvious as it feels. “How is that?”
He scooches his butt to the edge of his chair, bringing his knees so close to mine they’re almost touching. He’s near enough now that I can see the resolve in his expressive eyes—and an underlying ripple of uncertainty. It’s there when he speaks, too.
“Teach me to skate.”
8
Kolby
I hold my breath and study Adam as I wait for his response. He’s a hard guy to read. Like the Sphinx, big and mysterious, his facial expression and body language totally neutral.
“You don’t know how to skate?” he asks finally. From his tone, you’d think I told him I didn’t know how to walk. Or breathe.
“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have asked you to teach me. I tried it once or twice and didn’t like it. Spent more time on my rear end than on my feet.” I don’t bother telling him about my mom and the stitches. The less said about my family, the better.
“So why do you want to learn now?”
“Have you ever heard of the Space Sheep?”
“Who hasn’t? Aren’t they originally from Burlington?”
“Yeah. And they’re filming their next music video here.”
“That’s nice, but I don’t see what it has to do with you learning how to skate.”
“They’re auditioning for two guys to play a gay couple, and the breakdown says they have to skate well.”
I could have left the gay couple part out. But to be honest, I’m testing him. I want to gauge his reaction. To his credit, it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. He just tips his head back and bites his lower lip thoughtfully. Which of course makes me wonder what it would be like to have that lip between my teeth. In my mouth. Against my tongue.
“What’s a breakdown?” he asks, snapping me out of my sexual fantasy.
“It’s a brief description of the project and the characters,” I explain, happy to have something to distract me from daydreaming about kissing him. “Casting directors and agents use it to determine if you’re right for the role.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. I suppose it’s payback for my silence earlier. I’m about to give up and go back inside—it’s getting flipping cold out here, and I was so excited to be alone with him I forgot to grab my jacket—when he finally speaks.
“How long do we have?”
We. That one trivial, two-letter word has my stupid, hopeful heart doing a time step. Suddenly the cold that was so stinging a few seconds ago is history. I feel like I’m burning up from the inside, the sound of my blood pumping through my veins filling my ears.
“The audition’s not until the end of the semester.”
“That gives us,” his brow furrows adorably as he does the mental calculation, “a little more than eight weeks.”
Us. My heart tap dances again. “Is that enough time?”
He does that thoughtful lip-biting thing again, which steers my thoughts back to kissing him. “Depends.”
I stare at his sneakers. The cobblestones. Anything but his mouth. “On what?”
“How quickly you pick it up. How hard you’re willing to work.”
“If history is anything to go by, I don’t have much natural ability. But hard work is my middle name.”
Or maybe it’s just the hard part. Especially if he keeps up the lip biting.
“How about we start tomorrow night? You can meet me at the arena after practice.”
This must be my lucky day. I was supposed to work at the bookstore, but I switched shifts with Briar. He’s working my shift tomorrow, and I’m taking his on Saturday so he and Jamie can go up to Jamie’s family’s farm in Morse’s Line. It’s his sister’s birthday or something. “Sure.”
