Page 36 of Teasing a King

We both focus on the movie. Within ten minutes, Van has both laughed and visibly cringed at the awkwardness on the screen. He pauses the movie and turns to me.

“I could have told him that was a bad move,” he says.

“He was trying to tell her how he felt,” I say, defending the character. “It was sweet.”

Van shakes his head. “Maybe so,” he concedes. “But he should have waited until after the party full of drunk jocks was over. It might have saved him some embarrassment. He only has himself to blame for that one.”

I sigh. “Maybe so,” I say. “But it’s all part of the plot.”

Van shakes his head as the doorbell rings. “If you say so,” he says, making his way to the door for the pizza.

We eat pizza off paper plates on the couch while we watch the movie, laughing at the characters’ antics on the screen. The mood is relaxed and comforting. It’s the first time we’ve both been able to completely relax around one another. It doesn’t feel like a date, but it does feel like the beginning of something. Something more than just friends and roommates. When the movie ends, Van turns to me.

“What did you think?” I ask, still smiling from the happy ending.

Van grins. “It was funny,” he says. “You were right.”

“Were you suitably entertained?” I ask.

He nods. “I was. I still think a lot of that could have been avoided by some open communication.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, duh. But then the movie would have lasted all of ten minutes. You have to have some conflict or it’s just boring.”

Van sighs. “You’re right,” he says. “This is why I struggle with movies. I just want to yell at the characters.”

I laugh. “Well, we all want to yell at them,” I say. “But the frustration is half the fun.”

“If you say so,” he says. He shifts slightly on the couch, turning toward me. “What’s your favorite color?” he asks.

Confused by the change of subject, I stare at him. His unblinking gaze is locked on me, waiting for my answer. For a moment, I can’t think. I can’t remember my favorite color. I’m transfixed by Van and the way he’s watching me.

“Mya?” Van’s voice snaps me out of my stupor.

“Blue,” I blurt, unthinking. The truth is, I don’t really have a favorite color. My favorite color changes from one day to the next, depending on my mood. But I’d been staring into Van’s eyes, lost in his clear, blue gaze and I’d spoken without realizing it.

“Blue?” he muses. “Any particular shade of blue? I know I’m a guy, but even I know there are lots of different blues out there.”

“You’re not supposed to be able to tell the difference,” I tease.

Van shrugs. “I’m not like other guys,” he says with mock seriousness. “I’m different.”

I sigh. “That’s what they all say.”

We both laugh. “What’s your favorite color?” I ask. “And be specific. This is serious business.”

“Gold,” he says without hesitation.

“Gold?” I wrinkle my nose. “That’s not a color. That’s an element on the periodic table.”

“It’s in the crayon box,” Van says, defending his choice.

“If you say so,” I say, reaching for my glass of water.

“I do say so,” he says. “And I should know, since it’s my favorite color and all.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll allow it.”

Van laughs. “I’m so relieved.”

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