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“I can ask him,” I say finally, my tone lacking even half of Gia’s enthusiasm.
“Perfect,” she answers brightly. “I was also hoping that the two of you could have some sort of outing soon.”
Now I know I’m making a face. “Outing?”
“Yes, I was talking to Ben, and after all the pics following the play day, we think it would be a good idea if the two of you were seen again in public. Maybe just the two of you this time? Could make for some good press, which would mean more buzz.”
“Like a date? Is that what you mean?”
“No, we can’t ask you to go on dates for the network,” Gia says with a nervous laugh, betraying that this is essentially what she’s doing. “Just that you…spend some time together in public. We just want the two of you to be seen, remember?”
“I remember,” I sigh. I consider it, coming up blank on what an “outing in public” with Ian would even look like. Are we supposed to go tandem biking in the fucking park or something? “Again, I’ll have to run it by Ian. I don’t want to agree to anything without talking to him first.”
“Of course, of course,” Gia says. “Talk it over with him tonight, if you can, and let me know tomorrow what the plan is so we can plant the appropriate leaks to the right people.”
I don’t even want clarification on everything she just said. I suspect I don’t want to know the inner workings of network gossip and how they keep it rolling.
“Sure,” I say instead. “I’ll do that.”
“Good. This is all going so great.”
I try to match her excited expression, but it probably comes out strained. I know that she’s right, that everything that’s happening is exactly what we were setting out to do, that it’s everything I agreed to, and I stand by my reasons for saying yes in the first place, I really do.
I just never imagined that it would be so damned hard.
I decide to visit Ian in person rather than talking over the phone about all this new nonsense the network has cooked up, so when he texts me that he’s home—I make my way over to Jack’s feeling more and more anxious the closer I get to their apartment. By the time I knock on the door, I’m practically sweating. Which I don’t do. I don’t fucking sweat over guys.
I’m giving myself a mental girlboss ass-kicking when the door swings open, and then I’m flummoxed by wet, red curls and stormy gray eyes and a dark navy T-shirt that is stretched tightly over a broad chest—the shoulders wet from his hair. He obviously just got out of the shower, which means my brain has effectively opened a window and let my entire ten-point speech on why we do not simp fly out on the breeze. It’s gone now. Out there in the wind. I don’t even have time to catch it since my eyes are gobbling up every bit of Ian they can reach.
“Hey,” he greets me in that warm, low way of his. “Come in.”
I step past him, swallowing around the lump in my throat and looking around the living room. “Where’s Jack?”
“Physical therapy,” Ian tells me, shutting the door behind us.
“Oh, duh.” I’m nodding aimlessly as I sink down onto the couch. “I forgot.”
Might have been nice to remember before you rode over here to be locked in this apartment alone with him.
Ian grabs a towel that had been slung haphazardly across the back of the couch, bringing it to his hair and rubbing it through the wet mass as he takes the end opposite me to sit.
“You said we needed to talk about something?”
“Right,” I say, clearing my throat. “I met with Gia today, and she wants us to do another episode with you on the show.”
His eyebrows raise. “Really?”
“Mhm. Apparently, now that we’re hot goss, she thinks a repeat will do even better numbers than last time.”
“Makes sense,” he says thoughtfully, his hand slowing against his hair as he frowns down at his lap like he’s thinking.
Which means that the bulge of his bicep is more prominent as he lazily works the towel against his hair, his skin wrapped in ink and still slightly damp in a way that makes me want to lick it.
“But only if you’re comfortable with it,” I add.
He shrugs one shoulder, giving up on the drying altogether as he drops the towel over the back of the couch again. “Guess it can’t hurt.” He smirks at me. “I told them as long as they don’t try to get me naked on camera or something, I’m down for whatever.”
Oh God. Do not think about him naked right now. He’s wet, for God’s sake. Do not think about him naked and wet.
