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I clench my jaw, nodding too quickly to be normal. “Awesome. I can let Gia know.”
“You came all the way over here to ask me that?”
His voice is teasing, and I feel my cheeks heat in response. “Oh, well, no. There was something else she suggested that I wasn’t sure about.”
“Oh?”
“The network feels that it might create more buzz for us to be…seen together again. Like the play day.”
“Do they have an event in mind?”
“They would rather we have an…outing…with just the two of us.”
He blinks at me for a second or two, and then, “Like a date?”
“They can’t call it a date,” I grouse, “but pretty much, yeah.”
His hand reaches to let his finger trace along his lower lip, and my eyes are glued to that action, and I’m talking super, not Elmer’s. It has me thinking about that stupid moment in my stupid bedroom where I said stupid things.
Which loosens my tongue to say even more stupid things.
“We’d probably have to be a little touchy-feely,” I say quietly.
His finger stills against his lip, and his eyes lock with mine. “Yeah?”
“To sell it, you know?”
He nods slowly, still touching that fucking lip. “Makes sense.”
“That’s not going to be weird for you, is it?”
His brow furrows a fraction. “I can handle it if you can.”
“Well, I can totally handle it,” I fire back, hearing the challenge in his tone.
“And what sort of touching did you have in mind?”
“I didn’t say I had anything particular in mind,” I answer thickly.
His finger makes another slow back-and-forth against the seam of his mouth, his eyes thoughtful as they move over my face. “Probably hand-holding, at the very least.”
“Probably,” I answer, my voice sounding wrong. “I could pull the old hand-in-your-back-pocket move.”
His brow arches. “People still do that?”
“Oh yeah. Loads.”
“Hm.” His eyes warm, and there’s the barest hint of his teeth against his lower lip now, and I feel the same strange current of electricity I’ve been telling myself I imagined in my bedroom the other night. The one that had me word-vomiting in abstract in the first place. “I can handle whatever you can, Lila.”
If I were standing, I think my knees might be wobbling right now. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what we’re doing, but I can’t seem to stop my brain from pouring words out of my mouth before I can stop them. Is this more of the silly game we’ve been playing? Or is it something else?
“Oh yeah? I’m pretty committed, you know. You don’t want to sign yourself over to an impromptu make-out session.”
Stop fucking talking, dumbass.
I’m holding my breath as Ian stares, his expression more locked up than Fort Knox. I’d give a whole tit just to know what he was thinking right now.
“I can handle,” he says slowly, carefully, “whatever you can, Lila.”
