Page 17 of The Dating Coach
"Like this?" He leaned in further, ostensibly to hear me better over the coffee shop noise. His breath tickled my ear, and I had to fight not to turn into it.
"Yes," I managed, my voice embarrassingly breathy. "And you'd find excuses for casual touch – brief, respectful, testing boundaries."
His hand moved to rest on the table near mine, our pinkies almost brushing. "Show me casual touch."
I meant to demonstrate something clinical and instructive. Instead, I found myself reaching out to adjust his collar, my fingers grazing the warm skin of his neck. He inhaled sharply, and I realized I'd been holding my breath too.
"Gemma," he said softly, and the way my name sounded in his voice made me want things I couldn't want.
We were close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his blue eyes, could count his unfairly long eyelashes. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I found myself swaying toward him, drawn by some invisible magnetism. For a breathless moment, I thought he might kiss me right there in the crowded coffee shop, and worse, I wanted him to.
The crash of someone dropping a tray full of dishes shattered the moment. We sprang apart like guilty teenagers, both breathing harder than the situation warranted.
"That was..." he started.
"Educational," I supplied firmly, rebuilding my walls with desperate efficiency. "Good practice. You're clearly capable of showing interest when you're not overthinking it."
"Right. Practice." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it endearingly mussed. "So, what's my homework?"
I grabbed my clipboard, grateful for something to focus on besides the lingering warmth where his breath had touched my skin. "Three conversations this week. Initiate contact, show genuine interest, focus on learning about them rather than waiting for them to lead."
"Any other requirements?"
"Just... be yourself," I said, then immediately wanted to take it back. "The real you, not the passive version."
"The real me," he repeated thoughtfully. "I'm still figuring out who that is."
The admission was so honest it made my chest ache. "Yeah," I said softly. "Me too."
We packed up our things in companionable silence, the awareness between us a living thing neither acknowledged. As we prepared to part ways outside, Liam caught my hand briefly.
"Hey. Thanks for this. I know it's just part of our deal, but..." He squeezed gently before letting go. "It means a lot that you're taking it seriously."
"Of course I am," I said, trying to ignore how my hand tingled where he'd touched it. "I don't do anything halfway."
"I've noticed." His smile was soft, private, meant just for me. "Same time next week?"
"Actually, we should meet sooner. The more practice, the better." The words came out before I could examine why I wanted to see him sooner.
"Tomorrow?" he suggested hopefully. "After your practice?"
"I have to check on Mia—"
"Bring her. We can get dinner after, all of us. Make it less..." He gestured between us. "Intense."
Intense. Yes, that was definitely the word for whatever kept crackling between us like static electricity.
"Okay," I agreed, already knowing it was a mistake. "Tomorrow."
Walking back to my apartment, I tried to convince myself the flutter in my stomach was just hunger, that the way I kept replaying the moment he'd leaned in was purely analytical. But when I caught myself smiling at nothing, touching my neck where his breath had been, I knew I was in trouble.
The worst part? When I thought about him practicing these techniques on other women – the brunette from economics he'd mentioned, anyone who wasn't me – something that felt dangerously like jealousy twisted in my gut.
"Just business," I muttered to myself, climbing the stairs to my apartment. "Just a mutually beneficial arrangement. Nothing more."
But when I found myself already planning what to wear tomorrow, choosing something that would make him look at me the way he had in the coffee shop, I knew I was lying to myself. Worse, I didn't want to stop.
Chapter 10: Liam
