Page 46 of Make The Cut

By reality.

“No, I just got into a fight.”

That doesn’t assuage her, her panic morphing into indignation. “What? With who?”

“That’s withwhom.” I groan as I pick up the coffee cup and take three gulps. “With my boxing coach. Don’t worry, I won.”

Poppy sits next to me with a huff and takes the other coffee. “Wait, are you wearing clothes? You’re not… naked under your blanket, are you?”

“Red, please. I’m a gentleman.” I throw aside the blanket to show her my gym shorts. “I have at least one article of clothing on.”

She uncoils slightly, leaning back against my couch. “How quickly can you get dressed?”

“Usually, women ask me theoppositeof that question,” I say.

Something flickers across her face. I want to take a time-lapse of her expression and unravel every piece of her so I can understand why she’s looking at me that way. What I’ve done to merit the tiny glimmer of hurt, the dull pang of resignation, the faint blush that fans over her cheeks.

“They ask you howslowlyyou can get dressed?” she says with a snort. “You don’t need to remind me that you’re a player, Naoya. Trust me, the tabloids do that every day.”

“I didn’t realize you were reading tabloids about me every day.” I take a few more sips of the coffee, made just the way I like it: a venti Americano, hot all year round even when most people drink iced coffees or frappuccinos. “You’re a Naoya Sugawa fan, aren’t you?”

“Is there even anamefor your fans?” she muses. “I mean, there’s the BTS Army, the Beyhive, but no name for Naoya Sugawa fans…”

“You’re in charge of that.”

“No, actually, I’m in charge of finding you something to wear, which may be a bigger task than originally anticipated since you’re wearing… Next to nothing.”

“I love when you flirt with me.” A lazy grin spreads over my face. “Do it again.”

“We don’t have time for this. Rose already called me five times to come to your house and ask you why you didn’t show up on set yet. You’re supposed to be filming at three, remember?” She elbows me in my already-bruised ribs. “Plus, you have that awards show tonight, and you still haven’t decided on an outfit.”

I wince as I gulp down the last of my Americano, nearly scorching my tongue. “You have an extraordinarily pointy elbow.”

“Just the one? You don’t want to see how pointy my other elbow is.” When I don’t move from my sprawled-out position on the couch, she grabs my hand, setting down her latte. “Come on, Naoya.”

I close my fingers around hers, trying not to marvel at how much smaller her hand is, how right it feels to be holding her hand in mine. “Last time I checked, I was your boss, not the other way around.”

She rolls her eyes. “And last time I checked, you hired me to help you, not make your life worse.”

“You haven’t made my life worse,” I blurt out. “If anything, it’s only been better since you stepped into it.”

I don’t know why the words fall out of my mouth, but as I stare into her blue eyes, she bites her lip, looking like she might say something. But just as she opens her mouth, her cell phone rings and she drops my hand. “Hi, Rose!”

Her tone is as cheery as a pre-recorded Barbie’s and it drives an icepick into my skull. Or maybe what aggravates me is how easily she let go of me.

“No… Yes, he’s at home… No, he’s not hungover… Yeah, I told him that filming starts at three… No, yeah, we’ll be there soon, Rose. Bye!”

“You don’t have to work for her,” I say firmly.

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” she says before walking toward the staircase. Then she pauses. “Where’s your room?”

“Trying to get into my bed?” I say as I lead her up the stairs, my tired, achy muscles protesting with each step. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“I’m just trying to help you pick out an outfit for the show’s red carpet event tonight, but I’ll tell Rose I can’t because you areincorrigible.” She huffs, swatting at me before she stops herself and remembers I’m not wearing a shirt. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

“Maybe I’m not flirting with you.”

Maybe you just make me want to kiss you, all the time, and I like looking at you, but I like being your friend even more, and I want to talk to you all the time, and you make me want to be a better man than the one I’ve been—

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