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Chapter Thirteen
Did she want to play?Hollyn glanced at the door like a spooked horse ready to bolt in response to Jasper’s question. Beyond the all-encompassing fear of trying this improv stuff, she was mortified that she’d walked up on him telling his friend how completely uninterested he was in Hollyn and how she had “issues.”A sexless endeavor.God, how had she ever suspected that he’d been flirting with her?Of coursehe didn’t see her that way.
He was just a nice guy offering to help outthat awkward chick with Tourette’s.Ugh.She cleared her throat. “Look, I’m not sure this is the best idea. Maybe—”
“No way,” Jasper said, stepping between her and the path to the door and catching her gaze. “Please don’t back out now. If you heard—”
“I didn’t hear anything,” she said quickly.
His mouth hitched up at one corner. “You’re a terrible liar.”
She pressed her lips together.Fucking tics.
“I’m sorry you heard any of that. Monique was just being Monique—a great friend but blunt,” he said with a shrug. “I’m coming off a shitty breakup, and she wants me to make ‘good choices.’” He made air quotes at that. “She was worried our private lessons were a cover for me starting up some kind of on-the-rebound work affair.”
Hollyn blinked at his frankness. “Oh.”
“Which obviously they’re not,” he said. “So, she has nothing to worry about.Youhave nothing to worry about. I’m here to help you with your job stuff. You’re going to help me by getting my group an honest Miz Poppy review. We know what’s what. I just couldn’t tell Monique the whole truth because I don’t want to blow your Miz Poppy cover.”
Hollyn worked not to cringe at the wordobviously. “Right.”
“So,” he said. “Ready to get started now?”
“I’m still kind of freaked out over the idea of this,” she admitted, trying to refocus on why they were there.
“That’s just the initial panic trying to scare you away. Try to shake it off.” He put his arms out to his sides and shook his hands. “It’s only nervous energy.”
She huffed. “I can’t just shake that kind of thing off. I’m literally composed of rogue nervous energy.”
“Sure you can. Come on and try it. Hands out. Shake it off. Don’t make me sing the Taylor Swift song.” He continued to shake his arms and hands like he was trying to get a bee out of his shirt or something.
She pursed her lips in frustration but put her hands out and gave them a half-hearted shake.
He gave her sad attempt a look that said he was wildly unimpressed, and then he took her by the hands and shook her arms with his, training his face into an ultra-serious expression until she smiled. “There you go. You said you wanted to give this a try. Don’t quit before you even give yourself a chance.”
“Jasper—”
He let go of her hands and gripped her gently by her shoulders, his hazel eyes earnest. “Look, it’s just me, okay? Everyone has left. This is a completely safe space to act like a fool. No mistakes to worry about. If you freeze up or panic or whatever, it’s no big deal. I’ll help you breathe through it. And if your mind goes blank at any time during a scene, just do the funky chicken.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “The what?”
Jasper tucked his hands beneath his armpits to make wings and started flapping his arms and bouncing on his toes, his head moving like a chicken’s.
She put her hand over her mouth to stanch the laugh that bubbled out. He stopped dancing and gave her that sexy half smile of his, sending a ripple of heat through her. Leave it to her to be turned on by the guy’s funky chicken dance. Good God, she was hard up. She needed to go home, binge-watchPride and Prejudice, Colin Firth version, and knock the dust off her vibrator. She couldn’t be trusted out in the world like this.
“See. It’s always funny,” he said, misinterpreting her flush of attraction as amusement. “So, when your brain wants to freeze up, just do the funky chicken. It will help snap your mind out of the panic. No one can take themselves too seriously when acting like a yard bird.”
“The chicken seems apropos for this situation,” she said, trying to reel in her errant thoughts. “My inner chicken is flapping her wings hard right now, trying to fly right out of here.”
He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and gave her a contemplative look. “What’s your biggest fear about all this? Just off the top of your head.”
She was already sweating, and they hadn’t even started. She prayed her extra-strength deodorant was improv-proof. “That this is going to be super embarrassing. That I’m not going to be able to do what the other people did tonight. That I’m going to look stupid or pathetic.”
“Okay. So let’s say all of those happen,” he said. “What then?”
“I—” Her words left her as she searched for an answer. “I don’t know.”
“I have a secret to tell you.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned forward like he was about to whisper. “Looking stupid is kind of the point. And embarrassing yourself can be really freeing.”
