Player(20)

She did, her small mouth drawing up in a sweet crimson curve.

“Good.” I smirked, the motion catching her eyes and holding them. “Draw attention to your favorite feature. You try.”

“I don’t know how to show you my ankles from here.”

A surprised laugh escaped me. “Your ankles? Really?”

She nodded earnestly. “They’re like the only part of my body that’s slender. Look.” She held out her foot, pointing her saddle shoe to the side so I could admire the admittedly curvaceous joint.

“First,” I said when her foot was back on the ground and we were swaying again, “being slender is not all there is to life.”

Her lips turned down at the corners. “That’s easy for you to say. Look at you.”

I wore a frown to match. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She let out a frustrated sigh, glancing around us. “Sam, have you ever looked around you? You have to know everyone’s watching you. Everyone wants to know you, wants to be you, or wants to be with you.”

“How do you know? Maybe they’re looking at you. Maybe it’s you they want to know.”

She laughed. “It’s no secret I’m a bigger girl. You’re built like a goddamn supermodel who’s addicted to protein shakes and kale.”

I pulled her to a stop and pinned her with a sobering stare. “Val, listen to me when I say this.” I paused, waiting for a response, but she only looked up at me with her doe eyes, big and brown and soft. “Are you listening?”

She nodded.

“There is not a single thing wrong with your body. The curve of your ankle is as gorgeous as the curve of your waist, your hips, even your chin and cheeks.” I caught that little chin in my thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. “I can’t decide what my favorite feature is of your face. Your eyes, wide and dark and deep. The length of your lashes—I swear, they’re a mile long. Your lips—the swell of the bottom is just…juicy. That’s the word I always think of because they’re always shiny, like a freshly washed apple. I never know what it is. Lip gloss? The consequence of your tongue sweeping it? Or are they just always wet?”

The lips in question parted to speak, and somehow, I found myself. I pulled her to me and turned us to start the dance again, breaking the moment with a regrettable snap.

“So you could sell any one of those features, easy,” I said matter-of-factly, ignoring the blush on her cheeks. Reel it in, man. “Compliment him, something unexpected. Let him catch you looking at him, smile, look away. He’ll get the hint, I promise. And if he doesn’t, he’s too stupid for you.”

Val laughed, but the sound was small. “Are you sure I can’t use my pick-up lines? I have so many good ones.”

“I’m sure.”

She fanned herself. “I dunno. I mean, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

I laughed. “I was wondering, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

She blinked dramatically. “I thought something was wrong with my eyes.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t take them off of you.”

The beat picked up, and so did our feet. She executed a particularly epic spin, one that gave me a full view of her ample ass, and a second later, we were cheek-to-cheek.

I said into the shell of her ear, “You’re hotter than the bottom of my laptop.”

Her lips were next to my ear too, her breath hot and humid. “I wish you were my big toe.”

I leaned back to eye her.

She smirked at me. “I’d bang you on every piece of furniture in my house.”

“Goddammit, Val.” I laughed, the sound so easy. I hadn’t laughed so much in forever. “You never answered my question, by the way.”

“What question?”

“Do you really think people flirt like this?”

She shrugged and looked off, avoiding my eyes. “Isn’t that what you do? You’re the player, the pick-up artist. The guy who gets all the girls. I’ve heard all the stories about you and Ian. That’s why you’re the perfect person to teach me. You can show me how not to be…well, me, so I can pick up guys.”

I full-on frowned at her. “I’m not teaching you how not to be you, Val. It’s not fake—it’s marketable. It’s figuring out how to send the right signals, how to sell your favorite parts of yourself, show them to him so he can see them and want them.”

“But this is what dating is, right? Playing a game. You’re teaching me the rules.” She was so sincere, something in my chest twisted painfully. It must have shown because she hung on to me a little tighter. “No, it’s good though. I’m excited. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I appreciate you, Sam.”

I took a minute just to dance with her, pulling her around in a series of moves, one to the next, with no time to speak in between while I gathered my wits.

“Let me fill you in on a little secret,” I said when we were in the clutch again. “This isn’t about playing a game—it’s about confidence. It’s about practice. It’s about figuring out what you want and going after it. If you want a guy, you have to let him know. That is what I’m teaching you. How to get what you want.” I paused, watching my words sink in. “I’m teaching you how to be brave, not fake.”