Page 100 of Into Pitch

This time, I just let myself have it.

I study the way his shoulders stay relaxed and the stillness of him that isn’t lazy. Like he’s coiled inward instead of sprawled out. Like everything he does is deliberate, even breathing.

There’s something deeply unfair about how attractive competence is.

My knee starts bouncing before I notice it and my hand shoots down to clamp it into submission. Across the room, Alex pauses. I swallow as his pen stops moving and his head lifts slowly so that his eyes could find mine.

Heat floods my face instantly, like my body has decided honesty is no longer optional and insanity is in.

“Do you need something?” He asks mildly.

“No,” I choke out far too quickly.

His gaze flicks down briefly; just long enough to take in my posture, the way I’ve leaned forward without realizing, elbows on the chair, chin in hand. Yeah, it’s obvious what’s up and the asshole knows it. He’s just… playing with his dinner.

“You’ve been staring again,” he observes, amused.

I scoff, sitting back abruptly. “I have not.”

“Sadie.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” I glare at him.

“Like what?”

“You know what. Like you’re about to diagnose me and you’ve already got it all figured out.”

He smirks. “I don’t need to diagnose you. Your body language is doing most of the work.”

“Okay new rule: you don’t get to analyze me outside of sessions. And since this is one big shit show and not a session, it means the analyzing isn’t allowed.” I grumble and waggle my finger in the air beside my head.

“I like rules,” he muses.

“Sure you do. And… maybe I’m just bored.” I counter.

“Unlikely.”

“Excuse me?” I huff.

“You are many things right now, but bored is not one of them.” He grins, tapping his pen to the table.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just in my line of sight.” I mutter.

“Then move,” he gestures easily.

I open my mouth—

And then close it right back.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of further argument, I huff and sink deeper into my chair. “You’re insufferable.”

“I just want you to know, I am thoroughly enjoying this moment.” He grins, tapping his pen next to his chin. Purposefully drawing attention to his mouth.

“I’m sure you are, asshole.” I mutter and snap my sketchbook shut.

“Just admit you know what’s actually happening and we can let the moment pass.” He chuckles, relaxing his arm along the back of the chair.

“Oh, please.” I scoff. Not even sure why I’m still denying it anymore.