Page 375 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
She bites her lip, and her eyes drop, a light flush climbing up her cheeks. “I don’t know how to kiss a movie star, Flint.”
I tighten my hold on her, and she yields willingly, her body melting against mine. “Don’t think of me that way. Just thinkof me as a guy who likes to landscape his yard and work in his garden and hang out with his siblings. Think of me as an uncle who really loves his nieces and nephews and a son who still calls his mom once a week.”
Her gaze drops to my lips, but I don’t move. There’s still a question in her eyes—a question that I don’t have. I’m all in. Ready to kiss herfor real.But if this is going to happen, it will happen because she chooses it. Because she wants it.
She leans up, her head tilting just slightly, and I bend down to meet her. My nose brushes against hers, a whisper of a touch, but then she sucks in a deep breath and pulls away. Her hands fall from my body, and she backs up before turning and pacing across the living room, one hand pressed to her stomach.
She spins back around to face me, fire blazing in her eyes. “What are we doing, Flint? What was that?” She shakes her head, like she can’t make sense of the situation, but then words start to tumble out of her. “We werepracticing. You were showing me how things were going to be when we’refakinga relationship.” Her hands lift to her hips. “And then we almost…and we can’t. That’s not…” She props her hands on her hips, and I get the sense that wherever she’s going, I need to let her get there before I interrupt.
“You’re telling me to think of you as just a normal guy, but this isn’t a normal situation. We’re going toHollywoodso I can pose on the red carpet as yourfake girlfriend.There’s nothing normal about that.”
I brace my hands on the back of the couch. She’s right. But nothing about almost kissing her was fake. At least not for me.
“I know you aren’tjusta movie star. I do,” she says. “But I have to think of you that way. It’s the only way I can protect myself.” Her shoulders slump, and she wraps her arms around her middle, hugging herself. I barely resist the urge to go to her,to pull her into a real embrace. But her words stop me in my tracks.
She wants to protect herself? From me? From having feelings for me?
“You have fifty-six million Instagram followers, Flint,” she says. “Everywhere you go, people recognize you.”
“That’s true,” I say slowly. “But Audrey, it isn’t who I am.” I wince at the words because even as I say them, they don’t quite feel true. I hate it, but it’s the truth whether I like it or not. “It isn’tallI am,” I correct, but even this amendment doesn’t feel like enough.
“I get that,” she says softly. “And I believe you. But that doesn’t change your reality. The people, the paparazzi, the attention. I spent some time watching videos last night. Interviews you’ve done. And the crowds, the way everyone screams at you, clamors for your attention. I don’t know how you do it. I’ll get through the premiere, and I’ll be fine. Because I’ll know what to expect. I’ll know what’s at stake. But it will probably take me a week to recover. You’ll see what I mean. I’m not…equipped.”
I’ve made a career out of studying body language, paying attention to the tiny nuances, the almost imperceptible movements that tell a story ten times more powerful than the actual words we say. And what Audrey’s body language is telling me now is that she’s afraid.
But afraid of what? My fans? My feelings? Or is it herownfeelings?
“You’re not equipped to have arealrelationship?” I ask slowly, wanting to make sure we’re on the same page.
She shrugs. “Did I misread what that was? Almost kissing you. That didn’t feel fake to me.”
The fact that she’s willing to own it, admit it, instead of hiding her feelings makes me like her even more. Which suckssince she’s in the process of telling me that, despite whatever connection we clearly have, she doesn’t want to give us a shot.
Still, there’s no point in denying that I’m picking up on it too.
“It didn’t feel fake to me either.” I move to the couch and sit down. “So where does that leave us?”
She drops down beside me. “We get through the premiere. Play our parts. Silence Claire. Save your movie.”
I nod, chuckling over her very frank summary. I lean forward to prop my elbows on my knees. “Then what happens?”
She shrugs. “Everything goes back to the way it was before. You go back to your life, and I go back to mine.”
“What about your squirrels? You won’t ever come back to check on them?”
She breathes out a weary sigh. “I’m not saying we’ll never see each other again; I’m just saying we can’t…that I don’t want…”
I move a hand to her knee. “Hey. It’s okay,” I say gently. “I get it.”
She lifts her eyes to mine. “You do?”
“I won’t pressure you into anything you don’t want, Audrey. That was never my goal.”
She wraps her arms around her waist, and for a moment, it almost looks like a flash of disappointment crosses her features. “That’s good. Great,” she says. “I appreciate that.”
“Are you sure you’re still comfortable coming to California with me?”
She nods. “Of course I am. I made a commitment. And everything we—” She waves a hand in front of her, and I notice a slight tremble. “All of the touching. All of that is fine.” She lifts her chin. “And kissing too, if we need to. I can—we can—whatever we need to do.”
