Page 16 of The Anaconda Downstairs

“Kingmans are always the prom King, baby.” Shit, I shouldn’t have called her baby. What the fuck was wrong with me? “Okay, maybe not always. Declan told the prom committee to fuck off, and they didn’t know what do to when Flynn, Gryff, and Hayes were all seniors the same year. But Isak made a very handsome King Kingman.”

Now I was the one experiencing a verbal tsunami.

Penelope laughed. “Of course he did.”

The only thing that saved me was the knock on the door with our food. “I got it. You settle in and snuggle up. We’ve got work to do, young Padawan.”

“Yes, Master.”

Fuck a duck. I should have ordered a bag of ice to dump over my head. How in the hell did she so casually say shit like that and not think she was flirting?

I sat as far away on the couch as I could and set the food in the middle of us. I absolutely was not allowing myself even the most casual of touches with her.

During the movie, I paid more attention to Penelope than to the actors or what they were doing. The way she laughed at the cheesy jokes, how she leaned forward during the romantic scenes, the little sighs she’d let out at particularly swoon-worthy moments.

“See how she’s maintaining eye contact?” she pointed out during one flirtatious scene. “And notice how she’s mirroring his body language? That’s all part of flirting, isn’t it? They make it look so easy.”

“Right, but they’re also acting, so...”

Penelope nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Should I be mirroring a guy’s moves? What if he grabs his crotch or something?”

“Yeah, uh, don’t do that. But that’s not what has these two falling for each other.” It was just too adorable how she was legitimately using the movie to analyze how to flirt. I’d honestly just thought it would help her forget about being embarrassed tonight.

As the night wore on and the movies played, Penelope gradually relaxed beside me. By the third movie, her head was resting on my shoulder, her breathing deep and even. When had I scooted close to her?

I looked down at her, fast asleep, a strand of her red hair falling across her face. Every fiber of my being wanted to scoop her up, carry her to bed, and curl up beside her. But I knew I couldn’t. That wasn’t what she wanted from me. I was her coach, nothing more.

With a sigh, I carefully adjusted our positions so she’d be more comfortable. As I did, she snuggled closer, mumbling something in her sleep.

I closed my eyes, savoring the moment while knowing it couldn’t last. Tomorrow, I’d have to go back to being just her coach. But for now, with Penelope sleeping peacefully on my shoulder and the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room, I allowed myself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like if this was real. If she was mine.

But she wasn’t. Pen didn’t want me that way, and I needed to get over it.

I would.

Tomorrow.

INSTASNAP POST

@EverettKingman

[Pic of Everett's hand balancing a football on the tip of his finger, with the view of sunrise over Miami from a hotel balcony.]

Caption:

Miami nights are full of surprises. The sharks were certainly circling in Vice City. But I'm shark repellant.

#MustangWin #SharkBaitWhoHaHa #WhatHappensInMiamiStaysInMiami

MUSTANGS VS SHARKS

PENELOPE

Iwoke up with a start, blinking a few times to figure out where I was. Hotel room. Got it. Normal for my life. But in the living room? Why wasn’t I in a bed? Oh, oh wait. “Everett?”

The room was quiet save for the hums of the air conditioner and mini fridge. I was alone in the hotel suite. Last night flooded back. The disastrous flirting attempt, the way he didn’t torture me over how embarrassing of a love guru student I was, and then watching rom-coms and eating pizza.

I mean, that was better than any real date I’d ever been on.

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