Page 122 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“Yep. Completely unbiased research,” he says. “So? One to ten.”

“Hmm—probably a solid six?” I tease.

“A six?” he exclaims loudly, voice filling the room. He is so offended. “That’s barely above average!”

I try not to laugh. “What’smyscore?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he says without missing a beat. “A twelve.”

Somehow I knew he was going to say that.

I squeeze his hand. “I was messing with you.” Obviously. “I’d give you an eleven.”

He is the most loveable, sweetest guy I've ever dated and it's only been two weeks.

“An eleven? Not even a twelve, like you?”

I laugh softly, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “You have to leave room for improvement.”

“Oh, so this is a motivational thing? Got it.”

“Exactly.” I yawn. “Consider it an incentive to keep being sweet to me.”

I squeeze his hand again, my heart swelling at how easy this feels—how easyhefeels. Somehow he has managed to completely dismantle every wall I’ve built around myself.

“You’re kind of the best,” I admit with a quiet whisper as if I’m admitting it to myself.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs.

I smile, my fingers tracing small patterns against his palm. “You don’t have to say that just because I calledyouthe best.”

“I mean it.”

I tilt my head slightly to look up at him, even though the room is dark and I can’t make out his expression. “You’re really good at this whole relationship thing.”

“Thanks,” he says, his tone teasing. “I’m trying.”

“No, seriously,” I say, my voice softening. “You’re like—the best communicator I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re making it hard not to fall for you.”

My breath catches, my chest tightening in the best possible way.

I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’tthat.

I don’t know how to respond, so instead, I let him pull me closer, wrapping me in his arms like he’s afraid to let go. His warmth surrounds me, and I let myself sink into it, my head resting against his chest.

“Is that okay?” he asks softly, breaking the silence. “That I’m falling?”

I press my cheek against him, his heartbeat steady and sure beneath my ear.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Of course it’s okay.”

I feel his lips press lightly against the top of my head, a gesture so sweet it makes my chest ache. “You scare me a little,” he admits quietly.

“Me?” I ask, tilting my head to look up at him again, even though I can’t see his face.

“Yeah,” he says, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on my back.

---