Kiss and Don't Tell(34)

“It’s humiliating.” I clear my throat and then stare down at my block. “Okay, this game needs to move along. My, uh, favorite body part of yours?” I glance up at him, and it’s a no-brainer for me. “Your eyes.” I place the block on the top of the pile and wait for him to say something, to tease me over my answer, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes his turn and picks up a block.

He twirls it in front of me, showing it doesn’t have a question on it, and then places it on top of the tower.

“How on earth are you doing that?”

“Luck.”

Sighing, I reach for another block, wiggle it out, and then see once again there’s writing. “Seriously? What’s this one going to be?” I scan the text and cringe. “I think I’m skipping this one.”

“Come on, what does it say?”

“It says to pick your favorite player and give them a hug. Is that something you guys really do?”

“Hell yeah. Never too cool to hug a bro.” He spreads his arms wide. “Don’t be shy. Come on in here.”

Why is this so easy for him?

And why am I making a big deal about this?

You can hug Pacey Lawes.

Max would be climbing Pacey if he were in my position right now.

Why did I come on this trip? To let go, to be free. To grow.

Well, here’s my moment. I can either hold back and hang on to that shy persona, or I can let go and just enjoy the ride.

I put the block on top of the tower and then lean in and wrap my arms around Pacey. The first thing I notice is just how much bigger he is than me. The second thing I notice is how rock-hard his back is. Strong, stiff—there’s not one ounce of cushion. The third thing I notice is how freaking good he smells—all man, delicious.

And the fourth thing I notice—just how amazing it feels to have someone hug me like he is. Warm, consuming arms wrap around me. I feel protected, safe, cared for. And it’s silly to say something like that—I’ve known the man for twenty-four hours—but the way Pacey is holding me feels just like that—protective. But that doesn’t surprise me. His career is based on protection—protecting the goal, making sure he keeps his team on top—so why wouldn’t his hugs have the same feeling?

When I release him and pull away, he says, “Damn, you give good hugs.”

I place my hands in my lap and just smile.

“Not going to return the compliment?” he asks, picking up a block and showing me once again there’s no question.

“You’re good at hugging, too,” I say as my cheeks light up.

And there I go, crawling back into the shy-girl persona again. But who wouldn’t? I just hugged the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.





“You’re screwed,” Pacey says as I continue to wiggle a block from the tower. I’m pretty sure this is the tallest, longest game of Jenga I’ve ever played. And guess who has answered most of the questions? Me.

Luckily, they haven’t been too terrible. I did stumble over what my ideal date with one of the players would be because playing with just Pacey made it all about him. I went with a stupid answer, saying Jenga in the backyard with cider, which then sparked Pacey to tease me about what we were doing right now and if it was a date. My cheeks didn’t stand a chance.

“The commentary is not welcome,” I say, the block held in by just the corner now.

“Whoa, whoaaaa.”

I lift up and give him an evil glare that makes him laugh out loud.

“Seriously, you need to stop, you’re wrecking my concentration.” I hold my breath and then yank the last corner out. The tower wobbles for a few seconds and I wince, praying it stays up. When it doesn’t fall over, I take a breath and then flip the block over.

Question.

Because why not?

“What does it say?” He has a huge grin on his face.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Like you know what it says on this block.”

“Because I do know what it says on that block. It’s the only one left we haven’t answered.”

“Am I going to have to kiss you?” I ask, because we’ve had to hug and hold hands at this point, so kissing would obviously be the next step.

“Nah, there are no kissing blocks. Lips are sacred to us.”

I laugh at that, thinking about how these men made these blocks but kept kissing off the table because “lips are sacred.”

We’re three ciders in at this point and I’m feeling a little funny, not drunk by any means, but good, and I think Pacey is feeling the same way. When we needed new drinks, we both had to go to the kitchen together to get them, because we didn’t trust each other to not mess with the tower. Mainly, he didn’t trust me since I kept getting frustrated about the questions.

“But kissing me wouldn’t be a hardship, you know. I’m a pretty good kisser.” Pacey motions to his lips. “I use lip balm daily. These puppies are soft.”

“I use lip balm daily, too,” I say with excitement, as if we just connected on a much deeper level.

“I could tell. Your lips look soft.”

“You looked at my lips?” I ask, my nose scrunching up.

“They’re on your face, aren’t they?”