Page 67 of Overtime
“The hockey one?” He’s leaning back in his chair, appearing bored for all intents and purposes. But the fact that he’s talking means he’s either procrastinating, or he’s in a good mood.
I’m curious as to which one of the options it is, so I play along. “Yup.”
“Need help?”
Procrastinating it is, I think as I narrow my eyes. A glint of amusement appears in his eyes, confirming my suspicions.
“Aran, get back to work.”
“I can’t concentrate with your squirming and sighing and lip biting.”
I gasp. “I was not!”
“It’s not the hockey part giving you a hard time now, is it? It’s the romance part.”
“Wait, how did you know?”
“It was all the squirming and sighing and lip biting.” A smirk appears on his face. Probably because my face is combusting. I clear my throat. Fold my arms. His smile widens. I focus on his eyes instead.
Mistake. I hope he’s not reading my mind, otherwise he’d know I was wondering what kissing him would feel like.
“Well, writing romance is hard.” My voice comes out a bit too squeaky.
“Oh?” Aran leans forward. “What aspect of romance?”
“Nothing like that, you perv.” Or not yet. I’m not sure I can handle writing something too spicy. I may simply die trying.
“I’m not the one thinking aboutromancein the middle of the library.”
In a burst, I kick him under the table, and he doesn’t even flinch.
“It’s just a kissing scene! Nothing as saucy as you’re implying.”
“Why would it be so hard, then?”
I put my face in my hands and groan. I seem to have forgotten in the past few days how annoying Aran can get when his amusement is at my expense. Even though he also makes butterflies flit about in my stomach with that smile.
“It’s just hard, okay?” I say into my hands. “Not everyone has extensive experience to write about.”
“Wait, have you never been kissed?”
“Of course I’ve been kissed!” I roar, as if this were a matter of pride.
It takes me a moment to remember that this conversation isn’t happening in my living room. I lift my head and nearly die as a trio of students down the table give me looks of pity, disbelief at my bold declaration dripping from their faces.
Slowly, I face forward. Aran’s eyebrows are up as far as they go. He’s biting his lips as if holding back laughter. As if he, too, didn’t believe me.
“Really.” Not a question. He folds his arms. His pecs tighten, and the thin fabric doesn’t hide them. “That’s obviously why you aren’t struggling with this scene, huh?”
I purse my lips. “I’m just trying to describe the mechanics in a way that?—”
“You need help. Admit it.”
I suck in air before clamping my mouth shut.
Aran tilts his head and blinks slowly, as if my bravado were a boring little interlude to the truth that, yeah, I have no flipping clue what I’m doing. I bite my lip and press the enter key several times.
“Fine.Write what you knowisn’t going too well this time.” I put my hands on my face again. “Ugh, I can’t believe you made me admit that aloud. Anyway, it’s not like I can walk up to some random guy and ask him to give me the epic kiss I need as inspiration for this scene.”
