Page 21 of How to Write a Rom-Com

“It’s just… I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you’re not wearing any pants.” He grins.

My jaw drops. I quickly close my lips with apopand peek down at my legs.

Fuuuuck!

Liam’s eyes give me the once over, his smirk growing wider with every inch that his gaze rakes over me. I feel heat rush to my cheeks as I say, “Well, would you like to come in while I put on some pants, then?” I try to shake some sense into myself, but the wine is making me particularly confident.

“Is putting on pants a condition of me coming in? If so, I’d rather not,” he says. I can’t quite tell if he’s making fun of me or flirting back. I haven’t seen this side of Liam before. I haven’t seen this side ofmyselfbefore. I feel…playful.

“Ha ha, very funny. I’ll be right back,” I say, scampering into the bedroom. I hear Liam’s laughter and the door closing behind me. When I reach the bedroom, I pull out the first pair of pants I find. I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. I have no makeup on, but that ship has sailed. He might notice if I throw on some eyeliner now. At least my hair has a sexy, disheveled thing going on. I take off my sweatshirt—because it has suddenly gottenverywarm in here—and throw on a comfortable bra and my favorite Fall Out Boy T-shirt. It’s gray and loose-fitting, but it’s the best I can come up with in a pinch. I roll my eyes at how much I suddenly care about what Liam thinks of my appearance.

I take a deep breath and make my way into the kitchen. Liam is fiddling with the stereo under the T.V., turning down the volume. His back is turned to me and he is bent down reaching for the speakers. The bottom of his T-shirt pulls up, exposing his lower back. Is the lower back particularly sexy on a man? Not usually, I don’t think, but for some reason, this makes me blush.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask, taking a sip of mine. I need to calm down. My glass is practically shaking as I raise it to my lips. I’m usually not this nervous around men, especially when I’ve had a drink or two. But something about Liam is different. There’s this tension between us that has my body on high alert.

Liam does one of his head-to-toe gazes at me, and for a second, I feel like he’s judging me for my hip-hop boozy dance party.

“Rosé isn’t my drink of choice, if I’m honest,” he says, his voice deep.

“Me either,” I admit, fiddling with the stem of my glass.

“But tonight,” he starts, a curious tone to his voice.

“Tonight, I’m enjoying my vacation,” I say, a satisfied grin on my face. I can just barely make out the small lift of a smile on the corner of his mouth.

“Very well,” he says. I grab a glass and pour out the remainder of the bottle.

Okay, I’ve definitely had three glasses.

I exhale as I hand him the glass, our fingers brushing for the briefest of moments. I bite my lip and move to the window, where I stare up at the moon. It’s brilliantly white tonight, casting a warm glow on the black lake below.

“A bit different from the view in the city, huh?” Liam says. I turn around to find him resting his elbow on the counter, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“A lot different,” I say, taking another glance out the window. “My aunt—we’re very close—she travels a lot. She would always tell me that no matter how far away she was, we were always seeing the same moon,” I explain, smiling at the memory. “As I got older, I would tease her for that, because she totally stole it from a Nicholas Sparks book.”

“OrThe Outsiders,” Liam adds.

“The Outsiders?” I repeat, trying to understand what he is saying. I’m embarrassed by the second it takes me to catch up. “Oh, I loved that book! I read it in middle school.”

“Me too,” Liam says, a smug grin on his face. “You should ask your aunt if she can see the sunset real good from the west side and see if she gets that reference.”

I smile widely. Liam Miller just referencedThe Outsiders. Holy shit. I don’t know what to make of this man.

For a moment, neither of us says anything, and we just stay where we are, watching each other. I don’t know what is going on in Liam’s head. Does he really dislike me for being from the city? I think about explaining to him that I’m from a small town too, and maybe that would make him trust me a bit more. But on the other hand, I am proud of where I am in my life. And I don’t like that he questions me because of it.

But, I think, there’s also a part of him that is genuinely curious about me. If he decided not to like me because I’m some sort of uptown girl, then he wouldn’t have apologized for the other day. And he certainly wouldn’t be here right now, bringing me cake.

I find the most awkward way to break the silence by blurting, “So… cake?”

Liam’s shoulders jump a little bit at my outburst. I shuffle over to the plate he laid on the counter and unwrap it. I’m immediately bombarded by the smell of decadent chocolate frosting. “Oh my God,” I say, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. “That smells so good.”

When I turn my focus to finding a knife to cut it, I notice that Liam’s eyes are glued to me. I’m so glad I lost the sweatshirt because his gaze is like a heat lamp on my back.

“Do you want some?” I ask, thinking that maybe I should have waited until he left to dive into this. Shoveling cake in my mouth probably isn’t the most attractive thing. Then again, it would be rude not to have a piece.

Liam shakes his head. “I’m on frosting overload today. I’ve got five more cakes just like it back at the café and a few in my car to give to my sister tomorrow.”

“Oh, I met her actually, in the store the other day. Jillian, right?”

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