“If you’re gonna flirt with someone, you can’t keep your hands in your pockets the whole time.”
He arches a brow. “You really think you’re an expert?”
“I know I am,” I shoot back. “Here. Pay attention.”
Before he can argue, I reach out, brushing my fingers lightly against the inside of his wrist, before trailing lightly along his forearm. “You start small. A tap, a graze, something that says you’re paying attention.”
His eyes drop to my hand. I can feel the heat under his skin, steady and alive beneath my fingertips.
His eyes flick down to where my hand rests, then lift again, catching mine. He swallows once. “And then what?”
My grin softens. “Then you hold eye contact,” I tell him, “and do something that draws their attention to your mouth.”
His eyes flicker down, straight to my lips, and my own lips part on instinct.
I mean to keep talking, to throw in another joke, but then his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and it’s like someone just cut the power in my brain.
Jesus.
“Yeah,” I manage, quiet, the word slipping out before I can catch it. “Just like that.”
What the hell is happening right now?
I’m supposed to be teasing him. Teaching him. Not…whatever this is. But now I can’t seem to remember what the next lesson was supposed to be.
He lifts his eyes to mine, looking at me like he’s not sure whether to move closer or run, and I don’t have a single thing to say.
The TV’s still on, some laugh track echoing faintly behind us, but all I can hear is the sound of him breathing. The space between us feels smaller than it was a minute ago.
And his mouth?—
Christ.
I drag in a breath, but before I can say something, he beats me to it.
“Lesson’s over.” He stands all of a sudden, putting space between us. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
He doesn’t look at me as he gathers the empty cartons and cups from the table.
“Sure,” I say, forcing the word out past the tightness in my throat. “Night, Hayes.”
He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even reply as he heads down the hall with his shoulders tight and his jaw tense before he takes the stairs.
The door to his room clicks shut a few seconds later, and I sink deeper into the couch, staring at the empty space he left.
I drag a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.
The sitcom keeps playing, but I couldn’t tell you what’s happening even if someone held a gun to my head.
All I can think about is the way he looked at me before he walked away… and the fact that I’m still sitting here wishing he hadn’t.
8
NATHAN
“You always look so serious, Hayes.”
His voice comes from somewhere behind me, low and rough enough to make my pulse skip. I turn, and Logan’s there, bare-chested, barefoot, his hair a little messy like he just rolled out of bed.