Page 8 of A Chance at Love

“What are we doing, Leo?”

“We’re walking,” I say. “Although it now appears that...yep. We’re coming to a stop.”

She turns to face me. “Come on. Be serious.”

I meet her eyes. Fuck. I want to kiss her so bad. My hands itch to grab her face, to press my lips to hers. But when I think about actually doing it, the remembered pain of how much it hurt when we broke up flares in my chest. I know she said she wanted me, but the way she said it also sounded full of reservations. And I can’t risk her turning me down.

“We’re just hanging out, Whit,” I say, shrugging. “We’re catching up. Having fun. And we’re going to win this game.”

Is that disappointment on her face? Relief? Maybe a mix of both. She nods and turns her head to look at the mansion again.

“I can’t believe that’s where we’re living for the next however many weeks.”

“Ten weeks,” I remind her.

“Only if we make it to the end.”

“Oh, we will,” I say.

She glances at me. “What makes you so sure?”

“We make a good team.”

“Right. Speaking of which...we should probably talk some strategy, huh?”

I grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

We decideon a couple things upfront: first, we’re going to keep our history as on the down low as possible; second, instead of trying to become a power couple, we’re going to try to befriend as many other people in the house as we can.

“This sounds perfect,” says Whitney. “We’ll get everyone to like us. Then, bam, we’ll be in the finale and everyone will wonder what happened.”

“Exactly,” I say. “But remember. No alliances.”

Whitney nods. “Anything else?”

“I dunno. Can you think of anything?”

Whitney hesitates. “Um...well, how affectionate are we going to be?”

I shrug, trying to ignore my thrumming heart. “How affectionate do you want to be?”

“I mean, if we aren’t affectionate at all, then us pairing up is going to come across too obviously as strategy, and I think our chances of getting voted off will be higher. But if we’re too lovey-dovey, we run the risk of annoying people. Or making them jealous.”

“Right,” I say. “So…what exactly do you have in mind?”

“Well…we can be flirty. Let’s not use any pet names or anything, though.”

“Where do you stand on kisses?”

“No making out,” she quickly says. “But an innocent kiss here or there…that’s fine.”

“Cheeks? Lips?”

“Either’s okay.”

“Okay,” I say.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst through my chest. And I almost say something about how we should practice the kisses, just to make sure we get them right.

But that damn memory of pain rides up again in my chest.

“Come on,” I say, taking a step toward the house. “It’s getting cold out. Let’s go back inside.”

---