Page 8 of The Love Playbook

If this goes well with Jackson, maybe that can be him until he’s ready to be unleashed on the female population of Marycliff University.

Returning to my seat, I pass Jackson his coffee. Black. Gotta watch those calories. He very carefully waits for me to release it before reaching for it, and I can’t help the zing of disappointment. I wanted his fingers to brush against mine.

I sip my drink and study him as he sips his, still avoiding my gaze. “Jackson.” I say his name softly, but with a firmness that I know he’ll respond to.

It does the trick perfectly. He jerks his head up, his eyes colliding with mine.

I give him an encouraging smile. “When you’re having a coffee or a meal with a girl, it’s okay to let your fingers brush hers if the opportunity presents itself. Little touches like that telegraph your interest.”

He drops his eyes, his brows pulling together. Then his forehead clears, and he nods, his eyes coming back to mine. “Alright,” he says, voice hoarse.

“Can I ask you a question?” I turn my cup idly on the table—my usual chai latte. I intentionally focus on my cup while leaning back in my chair. Having even just this slight amount of extra distance between us seems to help him relax more than when I’m leaning forward. Eventually he’ll have to get over that, but we’re just getting started. I want him to be comfortable or we’ll never get anywhere.

He sits back as well, surveying me coolly. He’s not blushing for once, so I’ll count that as a win. Then his lips tip up in the first smile he’s given me since we got here. “Isn’t that a question already?”

I let out a soft laugh. “So it is. But what I really want to know is whether or not you find me attractive.”

And there’s the blush. A full blown one, his neck above the collar of his T-shirt, his cheeks, and his ears all turn a bright, fiery red. I want to make light of his reaction, but I have a feeling that will only make it worse for him, so I ignore it.

He clears his throat, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck before jerking his chin down in a quick nod.

“Good. Thank you. I find you attractive as well. This wouldn’t really work otherwise, so I just wanted to make sure.” Unable to help myself, I put both of my forearms on the table and lean forward, lowering my voice so as to invite confidence. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Attraction is a pretty common experience. Is there a particular reason you find it so difficult to admit?”

Poor guy, that blush just won’t quit. He jerks a shoulder in a shrug, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. I wish I knew how to make this easier for him, but I really don’t. I feel like we just have to fight through it. Exposure therapy, to some degree. The only way he’ll get more comfortable talking about this kind of thing is just to do it.

“I, ah, I just … I’m not used to having these kinds of conversations.”

“I gathered. But surely you know I find you attractive, don’t you? Otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed you the other day or spent the evening with you.”

He lifts his shoulder again.

Tilting my head, I think back over all the interactions with him and girls who were obviously flirting that he either ignored or didn’t pick up on. I’d kind of assumed he must just be ignoring the signals they were sending and feigning ignorance, but maybe …? Does he really not know?

Leaning forward again, I try to figure out the best way to broach this, and I catch him glancing at my cleavage before quickly tearing his eyes away. Yeah, he is interested. Good. I just need to help him break out of his shell.

“Jackson,” I whisper, waiting for him to meet my eyes again, “when a girl does something like this, it’s most likely because she wants you to look at her boobs.”

His eyes drop to my cleavage again, then jerk back to mine. I dip my chin in a tiny nod, giving him a smile and deliberately pressing my arms closer together to put my cleavage on display for him even more. “It’s okay, Jackson. I like it when you look.”

This time he takes his time checking out my boobs, and I can’t keep the smile off my face.

“Granted, most girls probably don’t want you staring at their tits on a first date quite like you are right now.” I grin at him when he jerks his eyes back to my face. “But appreciative glances and compliments are always welcome.”

He clears his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “You look … nice.” The compliment comes out sounding like his throat’s been scraped raw. When I raise my eyebrows, he continues. “Pretty. I like your hair.”

“Thank you.”

I pull my hair around over one shoulder and look at the play of colors. “It was that faded lavender all last year. I thought I’d go for something different.”

“It looks good on you,” he says a little more confidently, a small smile on his face. “It reminds me a little of the mermaid Barbies my sister had when we were kids.”

I return his smile. “Is your sister older or younger?”

“Five years older. She has a kid. A girl. She got pregnant at nineteen.”

I blink at that revelation. If she’d been nineteen, then Jackson would’ve been fourteen. Which lines up with when he said he had his first kiss.

“Is that why you haven’t kissed anyone since eighth grade?” The question comes out before I can think better of it, my mouth getting ahead of my brain like it sometimes does.

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