“What about physical contact?” I ask. “Where are the lines?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. Hand-holding. An arm around you, maybe. I’m not big on PDA, but enough to make it believable.” He pauses. “Nothing you don’t want. That’s not negotiable.”
Something in my chest loosens. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’m… considering it.” I hold up a hand before he can respond. “I’m not saying yes. I’m saying it’s not a horrible idea. Which is more than I expected to say when you walked in here.”
His mouth twitches. It might be the beginning of a smile. It’s hard to tell. “What would make you say yes?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Proof that it would actually work? A guarantee that it won’t blow up in my face?” I sigh. “I just started this job. If people find out it’s fake—”
“They won’t.”
“You keep saying that like you can control everything.”
“I can control enough.”
I study him for a long moment. He’s so sure of himself. So confident that this will work. It’s either inspiring or delusional, and I can’t decide which.
“Why not just tell the guys to back off? You’re obviously intimidating enough.”
“Tried that. Didn’t stick.” He crosses his arms again. “They listen for a day, maybe two. Then they forget. They need a permanent reminder.”
“And I’m the permanent reminder.”
“You’re the reason they need one.”
It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not an insult either. It’s just… Banks. Blunt, honest, and completely lacking in social grace.
I kind of appreciate it, actually. After weeks of guys trying to charm me with cheesy lines and fake smiles, his total lack of game is refreshing.
“Okay,” I say again.
“Okay yes?”
“Okay yes.” I take a breath, not quite believing I’m doing this. “But we need ground rules.”
“Name them.”
“Public only, like you said. When we’re alone, we’re just… us. No pretending.”
“Fine.”
“Only Tori, Zayden, and Dana know it’s fake. No one else.”
“Agreed.”
“End of playoffs, we’re done. Clean break, no weirdness.”
“Fine.”
“And you have to actually act like you like me.” I poke his chest—solid as a wall,geez— “None of this brooding silence thing. Couples talk to eachother. They smile at each other. They act like they want to be in the same room.”
He looks down at where my finger is still pressed against his chest and I quickly pull it back.
“I can do that,” he says.
