Page 116 of Role Play
“Silver lining—you’re living in a multimillion-dollar brownstone with a hot author who looks at you like you hung the moon,” Taio adds dryly. “Real tragedy.”
I laugh despite myself. “Temporarily.”
Taio shifts, turning to face me fully. “You know what’s ironic? You’re telling Sora to get out of her head. To live a little. To stop overthinking everything and just enjoy the ride.”
“So?”
“So maybe you should take your own advice, genius.” He tips his beer in my direction. “Sometimes you have to stop planning and lean into the mess. That’s life, man.”
I comb a hand through my hair, tugging slightly at the roots. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is. But all those choices you’re beating yourself up about? They brought you to where you are now. To her.”
“Real astute, Ty,” I bellyache.
He drains his beer, then sets the empty bottle on the coffee table with a definitive thud. “Why haven’t you two sealed the deal yet?”
I stare at him. “What makes you think that?”
“Please. If you’d gone all the way, you wouldn’t be sitting on my couch right now pouting like someone smacked your puppy. Koda’s away tonight, right?”
“Two more nights. Mrs. Novak is dropping her off at school on Monday, then I’ll pick her up at three like usual.”
“Great. So go home. You should be back at that brownstone, making memories with Sora’s thighs clamped around your face.”
“You’re a perv.”
“As advertised,” he sasses with a knowing smirk.
I sigh heavily. “Fine. You’re right. We haven’t. We’ve done other things. But not that.”
“Why not? You’re obviously both into each other. Living in the same house. What’s the holdup?”
I stare at the label on my beer bottle, picking at the edge until it peels some more. “Because I know what happens if we cross that line.”
Taio nods with sincerity. “I completely get it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, you’re so pent up you’re afraid when you finally cross that line, you’re going to erupt like a geyser in Yellowstone minuteman-style. It’s a legitimate concern.”
This fucking guy.“Would it kill you to be serious for once?”
“It might.”
“That’s it.” I stand up. “I’m going to Saylor’s.” It’s an empty threat. We both know that’s a demotion in conversation. Unless his mom’s awake, and then maybe I could get some sound advice.
“All right, all right. Want my advice for real?”
“Two beers ago,” I snark.
“Have sex with her,” he says simply, like he’s suggesting I try a new brand of protein powder. “But without all the pressure.”
“What pressure?”
“The pressure you’re putting on it. Stop building it up like it’s going to be this life-altering, cosmic event. Don’t make it epically romantic or some shit. Keep it hot and to the point.”
I laugh incredulously. “That’s your great advice? ‘Hey, Sora, let’s bone, but don’t worry, it won’t be special’?”
