Page 58 of Kiss and Tell
My heart goes a tiny bit gooey. Not only does he watch my show, he’s paid enough attention to remember the logo? I clear my throat. “What are your college colors?” I pick out gray, black, and red when he tells me. “Okay, show me how to screw this up.”
“I’ve seen you spatchcock a turkey. You got this.”
I do not “got” this.
Twenty minutes later, I glare up at him from a hopeless chunk of knots. “Maybe this is a metaphor for our friendship.” I peer at his. He has a half-inch section of neatly alternating teal, yellow, and white lines. “Is this because you’re an engineer? Is this why you can do precision knots?”
The tips of his ears redden. “Not exactly.”
I wrap my hand around his fingers so he can’t tie anymore. “Sawyer Stretch Reed, tell me what you’re not telling me.”
He looks down at our hands and turns his so our fingers tangle. “I made my niece teach me how to do them, and I practiced. I can help you if you want.”
I brush my thumb along his. “I do want.”
His eyes meet mine. For a second, it falls so quiet it’s like every living thing in earshot holds its breath. Then his eyes slide away, and he turns on the bench, drawing one leg over it to straddle it. “Turn around,” he says. “I need to sit behind you to help.”
Let it never be said I don’t sacrifice for art. I whirl on the bench so he can wrap himself around me for this tutorial. He moves the string taped to the table and resecures it on the bench in front of us.
“Do this.” His legs bracket mine, and he reaches around me to pick up the loose strings. His voice rumbles in my ear, sending goosebumps down my arms. He places a different color thread between each of my fingers and lets a teal string hang loose. “Watch.”
I keep my eyes on his hands, weaving in and out of the strings wound around mine. I’ve always loved his hands. His long fingers, his slightly rough palms.
He finishes a row of teal. “Got it?”
“Better hang out while I try.” I take a yellow string and don’t even try to copy what he did, messing it up so he’ll have to stay and tutor me longer.
He offers corrections every now and then, which I take, then promptly mess up the next time. After the fourth knot, his low laugh gives me more goosebumps. “How are you so bad at this?”
“Show me again.”
He does another row, and when he turns it over to me, I mess up.
After the second knot, he rests his chin on my shoulder. “Tab.”
“Yeah?” I barely have breath after the light rasp of his chin against my bare skin.
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
“Depends. Are you going back to your seat if I do this right?”
He goes motionless. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Have I pushed the game too far?
“I better stay here as a supervisor.”
Relief ripples through me. “I bet I could do a much better job if you did.”
“I’ll sit right here like one of those trainers in the corner of a boxing ring, keeping you loose so you can do your best work.” He settles into a gentle neck rub, and I nearly swallow my tongue. “Is there a problem?” he asks when I haven’t moved after a few seconds. His tone is knowing.
Oh, Sawyer Reed. You forget who you’re dealing with. “No, it’s just, I was thinking.” I make my next knot in the bracelet with no problem. I turn my head as if to see him better while I talk, scooching back slightly as I make the adjustment. His knees press against mine in a warning.
I bite back a smile. My move puts our mouths close together. “You’re right about the kissing.”
He’s quiet for a second. “I am?”
“Yeah. We should definitely not do the friends with benefits thing. Take it off the table. Eliminate the mystery, you know? Then there’s no wondering if each moment isthemoment I’ll find out what you’ve learned in the last ten years.”
He swings himself around to settle in front of me on the bench. “So like, for instance, if I leaned over right now”—and he does, moving slowly as he speaks, his eyes on my lips—“to kiss you, you would definitely say no?”
