Chapter 11 #2
He crosses to the bar cart, opens a bottle of water, and hands it over, and I stop banging on my chest to take a drink. It helps, but oh my god!
‘That took you by surprise,’ he says, his ability to read me comforting and unsettling at the same time.
I’ve never been someone who could do that. Probably why I went into producing rather than directing. You can’t direct actors if you don’t understand the nuances of people’s emotions.
But all these thoughts… I’m stalling.
‘Us nearly kissing or you saying you wanted to?’ I ask, acting braver than I feel.
‘Either – both,’ he says, his eyes fixed on mine.
‘Then yes.’
He nods, taking that onboard. ‘Look, we’re obviously stuck with each other—’
My eyebrows shoot up and he cuts himself off.
‘Sorry, that came out wrong,’ he says, shaking his head.
I snigger – nervous laughter, fuelled by prosecco – lots of prosecco – but it slices through the tension, and we share an understanding smile.
‘Okay, here’s the thing,’ I say, taking over as I start pacing the length of the room, ‘this is an unusual situation.’
‘It’s bonkers.’
‘Bonkers – yes, I like that,’ I say, pointing at him.
‘This is a bonkers situation and – as you so eloquently put it – we are stuck here. And no wonder we get along so well – we both make movies for a living. I mean, that’s a helluva coincidence, but when you have to share a hotel suite, it’s also a bonus, right? ’
‘Absolutely,’ he agrees.
‘And we’re doing our best,’ I state emphatically.
This might be one of the best pep talks I’ve ever given, I think. But then I clock his face, and even someone as emotionally illiterate as me can tell that I’ve lost him.
‘Nick?’
He slumps on the sofa and stares off, a crease between his eyebrows.
‘Hey,’ I say softly, sitting on the chair opposite. ‘Did I say something wrong? I mean, again? ’Cause that’s what I do, remember?’ I add, trying to make light.
His head falls into his hands, and the air grows thick – suffocating. I’ve definitely said the wrong thing, only I have no idea why.
‘Nick?’ I ask again.
‘I’m an arsehole,’ he says.
‘You are not,’ I retort. ‘Trust me, I grew up in LA – my asshole detector is first-rate.’
‘No,’ he says, his hands falling to his sides, ‘I am.’
I go to contradict him, but he holds up a hand, and I take a beat to regroup. There’s only one thing I can say that will make him feel like less of an asshole.
‘I really wanted to kiss you too.’
He gives a slow nod, his eyes looking deep into mine.
‘I know.’
‘What?’ I shriek. I pop up and resume pacing. ‘What do you mean, you know?’ I stop and spin around. ‘Wait, are you Han Solo-ing me?’
‘Maybe a little,’ he replies, his lips twitching.
‘Then you are an asshole,’ I say with a laugh. I pick up the nearest throw pillow and hurl it at him. Of course, he catches it easily – one-handed. ‘Dork,’ I say, plopping back onto my chair.
‘Okay,’ he says, seeming a little less self-critical than before, ‘now that we’ve established I am, in fact, an arsehole – and a dork – maybe we should have some ground rules.’
‘Ground rules?’
‘For sharing the room.’
‘Oh, then I agree,’ I say without hesitation. ‘Where do we start?’
‘Sleeping attire.’
‘Sleeping attire?’ I question.
‘Mm-hmm. If you have anything more substantial than what you wore last night, then wear that. You kick the covers off.’
Okay, so he saw me in my lacy sleep set. Which is ironic, because before last week I didn’t own anything lacy. But it’s been so long since I’ve seen Nicholas, I wanted our reunion to be super sexy.
‘Done,’ I reply. ‘And you wear a T-shirt.’ I flap my hand at his crotch. ‘And boxers.’
‘I was wearing boxers last night, but I’ll put on a T-shirt.’
‘Good. Anything else we should agree on?’
‘We could fortify the boundary between us – on the bed,’ he suggests.
‘The pillow fort.’
He smiles at that. ‘Did you used to make those when you were a kid?’
‘Well, yeah,’ I reply as if he’s a moron. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Dan and I were more outdoorsy – making ramps so we could jump our bikes, that sort of thing.’
‘Really? I thought you’d be more of a nerdy kid, staying inside watching movies.’
‘There was a bit of that too – but I was always trying to one-up my big brother. If he jumped a three-foot ramp, I wanted to jump a four-foot one.’
‘And so began the illustrious career in stunts,’ I say, loving this insight.
He gives me a lopsided smile and nods. ‘My origin story,’ he says.
‘See? Now if you really were an asshole, it would be a lot darker than that. You would have been off building an evil lair or shooting squirrels with a BB gun or something.’
‘Hmm, not sure that tracks, but okay.’
A yawn catches me off guard – day drinking in the sunshine tends to make me sleepy – but I lean into it, and the release feels amazing.
‘Do I need to tuck you in already?’ Nick teases.
‘Ground rule number two,’ I say, snapping to attention, ‘no more comments that are even remotely flirty.’
He regards me for an extremely long moment, then says, ‘Understood,’ in such a deep, husky tone that all I want is for him to tuck me in – all night long.