Page 61 of The Dating Game

When I pass her the ball our hands brush, and I could swear she lets hers linger a second longer than necessary. My body surges to life, insistently demanding more proximity, more touching.

I yank my hand back and rub it together with my other hand, determined to blame the heat flaring through me on friction rather than Brooke’s intoxicating nearness.

“So, uh, what you need to do is focus on the angle of your body as you’re serving. Just like when you’re playing golf, if your body is positioned incorrectly the ball won’t go straight.”

“Duh, right. That makes sense.” Brooke touches a hand to her forehead then swivels to face the net once more, a determined set to her posture.

“Right, so, first off, let’s fix your feet. Left foot forward a smidge.” She does as I say. “Good. Now you’re going to want to focus on the angle of your shoulders.” I lift my hands and place them gently on top of her shoulders, rotating them slightly so that they’re not pointing left. This time I’m the one letting my touch linger, so long, in fact, that she tilts her head back to look at me, the movement causing her ponytail to brush against my hands. Her scent—something floral and sweet—drifts up, making each inhale a practice in self-restraint.

Boundaries. That’s the word I need to think on repeat. God promised not to give us any temptation too great for us to bear, which means I should be able to resist the temptation that is Brooke Garza.

The problem is I’m not sure I want to.

“Will?” she prompts. “What next?” I look down at her, forcing my hands to drop from her shoulders.

“Next,” I swallow, searching for my bearings. What the heckdoescomes next? What are we even doing right now? I blink. The white ball registers in my peripheral vision.

Right. Serving.

“So, next, we need to make sure that you don’t lose that position when you pull your arm back.”

“What about my hips?” she asks, adjusting her stance. “Do those matter like they do in golf?”

What is this woman doing to me? It’s like she’s giving me an invitation to stare at her soft, feminine curves, and I am all too eager to RSVP yes to that party.

“Your hips,” I rasp, my errant gaze fixating on the body part in question, “are perfect.” Her eyes snap back to mine, and I rip my own off her body. “Perfectly positioned, that is,” I correct quickly. She moves out of her serving stance to angle her body my way. A smile teases across her lips, suggesting that she saw right through my attempt at a coverup. “What?” I ask. “Are you really going to stand there and pretend that you didn’t know that you hadnice hips until I mentioned it just now?”

For a second I think she won’t remember having said a variation of these words to me back on the plane, but then Brooke lets out a surprised laugh. A laugh that illuminates her face, turning her into the lighthouse my ship knows signals the way home.

“Touché, Will Barrett, touché,” she drawls. “And thank you,” she adds, melting me with the sincerity shining in her eyes. “Accidental though it may have been, I think that’s the first appearance-related compliment you’ve given me.”

The truth of this smacks me in the gut. At first withholding compliments was by design, but lately it’s been a self-defense mechanism. If I don’t tell her how gorgeous I think she is, then it will hurt less to have her walk away. Or at least be less of a hit to my pride.

“Well, someone once told me there are more important things than appearance,” again I quote her own words back to her.

She smiles faintly. “True, but even so,” she shrugs, “a woman still likes to know the guy she’s been dating finds her at least a little attractive. Even if it is only her hips he appreciates,” she adds with a forced laugh, clearly tacking this on in an attempt to make light of her previous statement.

But there’s nothing light about it. She actually seems to not know that I think she’s beautiful, something I assumed went without saying. Brooke Garza is pretty. It’s a fact.

Me consciously choosing to not voice it surely can’t be making her question that.

Anyway, she’s only dating me as a bet, so why would she care what I think?

It doesn’t make sense. And yet…she just admitted that she does.

I open my mouth to say something—though I’m not exactly sure what would be sufficient enough to right this wrong, but she cuts me off with a hand to my mouth. “Wait!” she exclaims. “Don’t dowhat I think you’re about to do and give me some sort of obligatory compliment. I won’t believe anything you say right now, so save it, mister.”

I don’t say anything. I think my brain is short circuiting. Or it has simply decided to focus all of its energy on experiencing one thing: Brooke’s hand pressed against my lips.

“I’m going to lower my hand now,” she warns. “Remember what I said: no compliments. I may have unintentionally gone fishing for one, but I’m turning the boat around and packing it in for the day. Capeesh?…Capeesh?” she repeats again when I don’t answer. I finally nod, and she slowly lowers her hand, eyes trained on my mouth for signs of an ensuing compliment rebellion. “Good boy,” she says when I remain silent, giving me a pat to my chest. “Now where were we? Hips and shoulders square to the net. Let’s do this.” She whirls around, raising the ball still in her left hand.

Without any forethought at all, I step forward, grab the ball from her hands, and toss it to the ground. Brooke’s wide eyes fly to mine.

“Will, what are you doing?” she asks, a note of panic in her voice. “I told you not to do this,” she hurries to add, shaking a finger at me. “Remember: no obligatory compliments.”

“I’m not going to compliment you,” my voice comes out rougher than intended, and Brooke stills. “At least not tonight. But I want to give you fair warning about what’s coming your way, Brooke Garza.”

“And whatiscoming my way?” she asks in a breathy voice that awakens a hunger for her that I’m not sure could ever be fully sated. I want more of Brooke. And I don’t just mean physically. I want more of every part of her—her laughter, her voice, her humor. I even want more of her Mad Libs, random facts, and inspirational water bottles. Every facet of her appeals to me. I’m officially completely into her.

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