22. leo
TWENTY-TWO
leo
I f someone had told me two weeks ago that Victoria and I would be doing a commercial for Pro Ice Gear, I wouldn’t have believed them. But here I am, meeting Victoria for our first sponsorship deal as a couple. Since she’s coming straight from the kids’ skating lessons she teaches, we agreed to meet at the set—probably for the best since we’ve been spending so much time together.
Surprisingly, ever since we hatched this fake dating plan, Victoria has been following the house rules like a perfect angel, biding her time until her apartment is cleaned up from water damage, which has run into one delay after another. What was supposed to be “just a few days” of her staying has turned into a few weeks. In the meantime, I have to act like her boyfriend while resisting the urge to kiss her again—a challenge that’s taking Titanic-level willpower. At least I won’t have to worry about that today, since all we’re required to do is a photo shoot and commercial showing off their latest clothing line.
When I arrive at the set, I’m handed a stack of clothes and pointed toward the dressing area. As I change, it’s hard not to feel like a mannequin being prepped for a storefront display. The only reason I’m going through with this is to help Victoria get on her feet, because I hate the fuss that comes with representing a label.
Zipping up the jacket, I step out—and freeze. Victoria emerges from her dressing area at the same moment, and my jaw drops. She’s wearing a sports tank top and workout leggings that... well, let’s just say Pro Ice Gear knows what they’re doing.
“Victoria—” I murmur.
She whirls around with a dazzling smile that nearly stops my heart. “Do you think this looks okay?” She nervously fingers her hair which curls softly around her shoulders. “This isn’t too much, is it? Please tell me I’m not overthinking everything.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’re asking for my opinion?”
“I guess I just need some reassurance,” she admits. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a sponsorship like this. My mom used to handle all the details.”
I pause and take her in. The clothes highlight her athletic form and long legs, leaving me at a loss for words. She looks stunning, and I wish I could pull her into my arms and show her what I’m feeling inside.
She frowns slightly when I hesitate, then looks down at her outfit. “Is something wrong? Should I wear a different shirt instead?”
“No, Victoria, nothing’s wrong. You look...” I pause, the words caught in my throat. “Incredibly beautiful.” I take her hand, the same one that’s nervously fingering her perfect curls. She’s wound tight, but the minute I hold her hand, her shoulders slowly sink and her fingers relax. “The reason I hesitated was because I’m not sure how to compliment you... without it coming out wrong.”
She shakes her head. “Why would you worry about that? I’d rather have your honesty than have to guess what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “It’s easier when you think I’m a grizzly.”
Her lips twist into a smile. “Careful, Leo. You don’t want people finding out you’re secretly nice under that scowl.”
One of the assistants in wardrobe motions for us to follow her to the studio, where we meet Desmond, the director of today’s media frenzy.
“If it isn’t the happy couple.” Desmond smiles as he shakes our hands, his voice as polished as his tailored jeans and pristine cashmere sweater topped with a tailored blazer. He looks like he belongs at Fashion Week, not on a set for athletic wear. His eyes graze over us with an approving smile. “I see wardrobe worked their magic. You both look hot.”
Hot? I thought we were selling athletic wear, not lingerie. I look worriedly at Victoria.
“We’re going to start with some photos and then move into the lifestyle commercial in another room,” Desmond says. “Think natural interactions, lots of chemistry—like you’re madly in love and can’t keep your hands off each other.” He winks at us, his smile turning slightly wicked.
I blink. “Uh, what? I thought we were just taking a few pictures... as athletes.”
Desmond frowns. “Boring pictures? Uh, no. Boring pictures do not sell anything. Didn’t Robbie tell you? The goal is to sell the love story. We’re not just offering our clothes. We’re selling connection, passion, and sexiness. You two are the face of those emotional reactions. We want fireworks exploding across the screen.”
Victoria’s face drains, and I can feel her tension from a mile away. “Fireworks?” she says.
“Yes, darling, fireworks,” Desmond says, showing off his perfect white teeth. “The kind that make people want what you have. I’m sure that won’t be hard for you two.” He flashes us another smile.
I’ve been trying to smother any sparks I have for Victoria ever since that last kiss. Turning on the “fireworks” will only make this flame impossible to put out.
Desmond nods at me. “You seem confident. I saw your photo shoot with The Star Report last month. Those shirtless ones turned out amazing.”
“Uh, thanks,” I say, bristling under his praise. I was honored to be chosen for the magazine’s athlete profile, but I avoided looking at the final version, knowing the pictures weren’t really me. They were what people wanted to see—a version that’s been tweaked and edited.
Desmond elbows Victoria playfully. “I’m sure you enjoyed them, too.”
“Who wouldn’t?” she says with a strained laugh. “Half the women in America probably pinned them to their Pinterest boards.” Based on the way her smile wavers, she probably didn’t even see the magazine.
Desmond spots the photographer getting ready for the shoot and excuses himself. As soon as we’re alone, Victoria glances at me, her eyes wide. “So, um, how are we going to pull off fireworks?”
“You’re a figure skater. Aren’t you used to performing?” I ask.
“Performing, yes. Fireworks? No way,” she says. “I’m not naturally charming, like you.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve charmed your audience a hundred times on the ice.”
She shakes her head. “Acting isn’t the same as skating.”
“Then maybe take some pointers from that book you’re reading,” I suggest with a grin.
Her smile drops. “Were you snooping in my room?”
“Not intentionally. I saw it on your nightstand when I helped you to bed after trivia night. I was curious about it, so I read a few pages.”
Her eyes widen. “What part?”
“Wouldn’t be appropriate to say out loud. Unless you think it would help?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Of course not,” she says, her cheeks flaming as she looks away.
Even though it was only a kissing scene, it’s worth it to see her blush.
“Just curious—are those fictional fireworks the type you’re into?” I ask. “As your ‘boyfriend,’ I probably should know.”
She sets her hands on her hips. “That book wasn’t meant for you! And I take back what I said about you being charming.”
I chuckle. “Oh, no, you can’t. You said it—and I’m not forgetting it.” If she thinks I’m charming, maybe all those dates in college weren’t wasted after all.
“Okay, lovebirds,” Desmond interrupts, motioning for us to stand in front of the camera. “Let’s see some magic.”
Victoria and I reluctantly move into place, standing stiffly across from each other. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I shove them in my pockets.
Desmond frowns. “You two look like strangers forced to share a crowded elevator. Lean into each other a little more.”
Victoria looks at me and hesitates. I step closer, brushing her arm lightly, before my hand finds the curve of her waist. The contact feels like a live wire, and I have to force myself to keep my expression neutral and my mind under control. As long as I can look convincing for the camera, then it doesn’t matter what I’m feeling underneath. Because having her this close, pretending like we’re still in love? It’s going to ruin me.
Desmond nods with approval. “That’s better. Victoria, rest your hand on his chest.”
Her hand hovers for a moment before settling on my chest, her fingers sending a warmth through my jacket that’s impossible to ignore.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Desmond says as the camera flashes.
Victoria’s eyes dart around the room, looking everywhere but at me.
“Tell me how you feel right now,” I murmur as the photographer continues.
“You mean other than totally awkward?” she asks.
“What if you tried what my high school drama teacher suggested when I was nervous? He said to remember a time when I was relaxed and happy.”
She presses her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m not sure I can pull it off like you. You’re so good at being confident, you don’t even have to try.”
A low chuckle escapes my lips. “Maybe some of us are better at hiding our insecurities than others.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “You . . . insecure ?”
“Especially when you’re standing this close,” I murmur. “I’m afraid you’ll see the real me... and be disappointed.”
Her lips part. “How could you think that? You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I’m not,” I say, looking away. “When I was little, whenever I felt sad, I’d go outside and climb into my tree house. I knew nobody could hurt me from up there because it was my happy place. That’s what I’m thinking of right now.” My eyes cut to hers. “I want you to find your happy place, looking out over the world.”
She finally snuggles into me, closing her eyes, her body relaxing in my arms.
Maybe this isn’t the kind of fireworks Desmond was talking about. But what he can’t see are the fireworks exploding in my chest, and how when I hold her, everything is right in my world.