Page 56 of Can't Help Falling

Oh boy. There was a really good chance Fin was about to see something megaembarrassing online about Ty. A surprisingly vocal part of her conscience spoke up. He probably wouldn’t want her to see it, whatever it was. Maybe she should decline—

Kylie shoved her phone under Fin’s nose and any thoughts of turning away from the video went immediately up in smoke. “That’s Ty?”

Fin was utterly stunned.

Because there was a much younger Tyler, shirtless, in black tights and bare feet, leaping across a stage.

He...was a ballet dancer.

This right here, was not embarrassing. Not in the least. This was incredibly impressive. In the somewhat grainy video, he was dancing alongside a slim, lithe female dancer, also dressed in black. He effortlessly lifted her, before he set her down and pirouetted himself at least a few feet off the ground. Gravity need not apply.

Fin, mouth agape, watched his muscular arms and shoulders rise above his head. She watched the complex play of muscles at his back. The thighs that actually made her eyes bulge—

“There’s other ones too. I think he’s supposed to be Romeo in this one.” Kylie took the phone back and handed it over again.

He wasn’t shirtless in this one. But he was in tights again and the tunic he wore was open almost to the waist. She couldn’t make herself stop watching the triangle of golden, sweaty skin exposed on his chest.

It was definitely Tyler. No question. Young twenties, a little bit thinner and floppier, like a puppy. But Tyler all the same. There was no mistaking that long, handsome face, his friendly eyes and light brows. But she simply couldn’t reconcile her current image of him with this graceful, athletic man who radiated light.

She’d guarded herself from Tyler’s energy before because she’d always been able to sense his attraction to her and it made her wary. But there was no turning away from it now. He powered across the stage on the screen. He dived to his knees, every muscle in his forearms apparent and shadowed.

His energy was nuclear, vibrant, explosively appealing as the man on the screen did what he was born to do.

His energy was undeniably golden. So gold it was almost green.

She’d always thought that if she looked hard enough into Tyler’s aura, it would be red. Obstinate.

Um. NOPE.

Blind spot.

The man in this video was sweet, caring, open, brave. There was no unseeing this.

“You’re drooling.”

Kylie was watching her with a smile on her face. Fin figured she could either lie completely or she could minimize it. “Well, there’s an awful lot of sweaty muscles in this video. I’ve always been a sucker for sweaty muscles.”

Kylie laughed. “I thought you’d think it was funny. Like I did. But you seem...”

“Really impressed. Ballet is hard. And it looks like he was semi-professional.”

“Yeah. The internet says he was pretty good before he quit to be a writer.”

Fin handed the phone back. “He looks pretty good.”

Kylie laughed, and Fin blushed.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Sure you didn’t.” Kylie nudged Fin’s boot with her own. “Are you sure you’re not into him?”

Yes! She was positive. One hundred percent sure. Tyler Leshuski was a convertible-door-jumping, collar-popping, ’80s baddie who...was really sweet to his kid sister, and actually kind of funny, and was considerate of his friends, and had faithfully honored her desire to have nothing to do with him romantically, and never hit on her, and made good curry, and made her heart skip when he shouted in her ear at a loud basketball game.

Crap.

“I...don’t get crushes,” Fin responded.

“Uh-huh,” Kylie answered knowingly. “Got it.”

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