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Chapter Fourteen
Jasper had no idea how the silly exercise he’d started had taken such a personal turn. He didn’t talk to people about his birth parents. He didn’t share why he’d gotten removed from his home. But somehow, his dark-closet shit had spilled out and into Hollyn’s lap without him realizing it. Hearing what that kid had done to her had made him want to break things. Smart, quiet Hollyn getting held down and a fucking rat shoved in her face? His fists clenched at the image. He wanted to go back in time, find that kid, and punch him in his sadistic little face.
He also realized, to his horror, that he’d wanted to kiss Hollyn. He’d almost done it when he’d seen that wounded-little-girl look in her eyes. He’d wanted to erase that ugly memory right out of her mind, show her thatof courseshe was worth kissing, pull her to him and kiss her until they both forgot their pasts.Thank Godhe’d resisted that urge. There’d be no better way to mess up this whole thing than making out with Miz Poppy.
So, in a panic, he’d tried to out-traumatize her with his childhood as a distraction instead.Way to go, Deares. Way to make it weird.
“So what’s the game?” Hollyn asked, tucking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and making her blue T-shirt stretch tight across her breasts, which he was totally not checking out. Nope.
He held up a stack of cards he’d grabbed from his bag. “Each of these has a suggestion of a topic or scene we can act out. We’ll take turns, each giving lines in the scene, until we run out of things to say or hit an obvious end.”
She glanced down at the cards, and her posture curled inward, her apprehension obvious. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. The thought of being on the spot stresses me out. I mean, I know that’s kind of the point of improv but I just… I don’t know.”
He frowned. He was losing her. He could feel her mentally backing away from the experiment already. And in his gut, he knew if he let her walk out without trying a game today, she was never coming back to a lesson. He needed her to get past the initial panic, to jump into the ice-cold pool so that her body could adjust to the water.
“Okay. I have a potential backup plan.” He went back to his bag. “This is not an official part of the curriculum, but if you want to use the old-school method of shaking stage fright, there’s always this.” He turned around and held up a bottle of bourbon he’d taken from Fitz’s stash, which his new roommate had graciously given him full access to.
Hollyn’s lips parted. “You broughtbooze?”
“And red Solo cups because I’m fancy,” he said. “Look, I don’t endorse alcoholism as an answer to stage fright, but many of the people I’ve done improv with, even the experienced ones, knock back a beer or a shot before going onstage just to loosen up. Too much booze and you’re sloppy, but just a little bit of something can take the edge off, especially when you’re new and feeling self-conscious.”
She eyed the bottle. “I don’t know.”
“No pressure. Just wanted to offer it as an option.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe just this first time.”
“Yeah?” he asked, wanting to make doubly sure.
She nodded. “I really don’t want to give up on tonight, but the thought of acting out scenes one-on-one has me seriously jittery. Plus, that’s ridiculously good bourbon.”
He smiled. “My roommate has good taste. Okay, I’ll do a shot with you. I’m off duty as an official teacher, right? I don’t think Lucinda would approve of drinking with the students.”
“Officially off the clock.”
He grabbed the red cups, set them on the table, and poured a shot into each. He handed one to her. He lifted his drink to tap hers. “Cheers.”
They both knocked back the shots, the bourbon smooth and instantly warming. He glanced over at Hollyn, who winced a little when she swallowed, and then she shook her head, looking sheepish. “I can’t believe I’m doing shots in the name of work.”
“You’re very dedicated.”
She laughed and licked her lips. “So dedicated.”
“You good?” he asked.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot like she was trying to gauge her body’s reaction to the alcohol. She held out her cup. “Maybe one more. A small one.”
A pang of sympathy went through him. He wished he could lift the heavy weight of anxiety from her, see what was beneath. But he also didn’t want to get her hammered. That would ruin the point of the lesson. He tipped about an ounce into her cup and did the same in his own cup. They both swallowed down their shots.
Afterward, he put away the bourbon, gave her a few minutes to let the liquor take effect, and then grabbed the cards again. “How are you feeling?”
She shook out her arms at her sides like he’d shown her earlier. Her cheeks were stained with a bright flush of pink. “I’m warm and tingly all over. But it’s not a panic attack, so there’s that.”
“Progress!” He held up the stack of cards. “Ever watchWhose Line Is It Anyway?”
“A few times.”
“This is kind of like their game Scenes from a Hat,” he explained. “Remember, there’s no pressure to be funny or say the exact right thing. It’s just riffing on a topic and having fun with it. You want to give it a go?”
