Page 65 of Role Play
“Right.” His expression clouds. We’re silent for a beat, and then he proceeds to bare his soul like we’ve been friends for ages. “Hannah’s boyfriend, Henry, just got a job offer in Tokyo. They’re moving there for at least six months, and Hannah was planning to send Dakota to boarding school while they’re gone.” His voice hardens. “A four-year-old. At boarding school. Alone, without her family.”
“That’s awful,” I say, earnestly appalled.
“I put my foot down. Told her Dakota would stay with me instead.”
“Good.” I nod encouragingly. “You’re a really great dad.”
“The problem is,” he continues, “my current living situation isn’t ideal for full-time parenting. My roommate, Taio, is supportive, but our apartment is tiny. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, and Dakota’s at the age where I shouldn’t be cramming her into a bro apartment, you know?”
I nod along. “Sure, sure.”
“I could move, but that would be costly. I wouldn’t be able to afford her private school anymore, where she’s thriving, by the way. I’d have to send her to a questionable public school where she’d be mercilessly bullied for being tiny…and admittedly, a little bit of a know-it-all.”
“That’s hard,” I add.
“So, what I really need is a temporary living situation.” Forrest leans forward, his muscular forearms sweeping the uneven table, causing it to teeter between us. “Perhaps a vacant,uninhabited brownstone that happens to be a ten-minute walk from her school.”
Maybe I was too distracted, mesmerized by his razor-sharp jawline and the gentle wafts of his sexy cologne. His eyes held mine with an intensity that stole my breath. I was so consumed by the electricity between us, I didn’t realize where this was headed until he spelled it out in braille, so even a blind man could read his intentions clearly.
“You want me to give you my brownstone?” I balk.
“I want to make another deal with you.”
I cackle shrilly, half out of shock, half denial. “Forrest, no offense but no way you’rethat goodin bed. I’m not giving you a house worth at least eight million on the market right now. I didn’t even get a happy ending from the first dumbass deal I made with you.No.”
It’s weird how patient he is through my outburst, his expression even-keeled with just a hint of enjoyment. “First off, I don’t want you togiveme your brownstone. I’m asking if I can borrow it.”
“In exchange for what?”
“I think I can help you, Sora. With your books.”
“Help me how?”
“The signing went well because we tapped into something readers respond to—the book-boyfriend experience.” He wets his lips, holding my gaze. “What if we expanded on that? What if I helped you explore different romance tropes firsthand so you could dive into the emotions your readers are looking for? I’ll be your source of inspiration.”
I blink at him, not quite following. “What are you suggesting exactly?”
“We role-play.” He holds up a hand when my eyebrows create liftoff. “Not just in the bedroom sense. I mean, we create scenarios based on popular romance tropes. I play the partof different hero archetypes. You immerse yourself in those experiences and then write about them with authentic emotion. The magic touch your future bestseller needs.”
That’s ridiculous. Unhinged. Laughable… But wait.Is it?Daphne mentioned something about me writing about love, even though I’ve never really been in love. Is this…a solution?
“Like method acting for authors,” I say slowly.
“Exactly. You said yourself you’re torn between writing what you love and writing what readers want. Maybe this is a way to bridge that gap—to find inspiration that’s both commercially viable and personally meaningful.”
It’s rapidly turning into an intriguing idea, I have to admit. And not entirely different from what I sometimes do already—putting myself in my characters’ shoes, imagining how they would feel and react.
“And in exchange, I give you my new house and stay in my shitty apartment for how long?” I ask.
“It has plenty of bedrooms and four floors, Sora. Move in if you want. Koda and I only need two rooms. We’ll clean up after ourselves, and do our best to stay out of your way.”
I fiddle with my straw, weighing the proposal. On one hand, it makes a certain kind of sense. The brownstone is sitting empty, practically begging for a family. And I do need inspiration for my next book.
On the other hand…
“I don’t know, Forrest.” I rummage my brain for a plausible objection that isn’t the truth—that I’m afraid of getting too attached to a man who makes his living by making women feel special. That I’m even more afraid of latching on to someone I can’t keep now that I know Daphne is leaving. “There’s a flaw in your plan.”
“Which is?”
