“A guy named Stanislavsky in the early part of the twentieth century came up with this concept of acting in which you get into the mind of the character by sort of taking that character on as an identity and going deep into their mindset so that the acting comes more naturally. In other words, to act like a Russian spy, try to convince yourself you are a Russian spy. Think through what that would be like and all that entails. Then it makes the acting less like acting and more like just… being.”
His lip turned up in a cute smirk. “So… instead of just acting like it, I am a gay guy in love with a cocky smart-ass?”
My heart fluttered a little bit like a stupid fucking idiot. Maybe my heart was eager to method act this role, but my brain shot up warning flags everywhere. This was Eli’s baby brother. Straight baby brother. Naive, small-town boy from Wheatland, Wyoming. I shook my head to clear it of what I was coming to refer to as beard brain. I was so absurdly attracted to that dark beard, it was making me stupid.
Acting. That was all.
We briefly talked through what we wanted to say, but then I decided to ad-lib a little.
“So that’s me in a nutshell. I moved back to Colorado from LA a few months ago to be closer to this guy.” I leaned against his strong, sturdy frame. “I went to college with his older brother, and we kind of had a…” I shot him a flirty look. “A flirty thing for a while. Not until he was over eighteen, mind you, but—” I stopped when Nine buried his face in his hands.
“Oh my god,” he moaned.
I kissed him on the cheek. “He’s shy. It’s one of the things I like about him actually. I’m a talker.”
“No shit,” Nine said with a soft snort. He pulled his hands down and looked into the camera. “He could make friends with a ham sandwich. In fact, I think he did exactly that yesterday.”
I shrugged. “So… we fit. He’s quiet and I’m not. Match made in heaven.”
Nine looked over at me with a smirk. “There’s more to it than that. You’re also bossy, so when you told me we were dating, I didn’t have much choice.” He looked back at the camera lens. “I’m still not quite sure how it happened. One day I was going through life normal as can be, and the next I was mixed up with this guy. It’s… it’s been an adventure to say the least.”
I opened my mouth to take back over, but he beat me to it.
“I wouldn’t change it though. He’s easy to be around. Makes me laugh and stuff. And…” He looked down at the dirt where he’d scuffed lines with the toes of a boot. “And you know you picked a good one when he’s sweet to your dog, you know?”
I must have swallowed a whole coconut. My throat was tight and dry. Nine looked from me to the camera and chuckled. “Make a note, ladies and gentlemen. This is a historic moment when Cooper is at a loss for words. It won’t ever happen again.”
Did I dare do what my brain was screaming for me to do?
When he winked at me, I knew without a doubt, the answer was yes.
So I leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth.
9
Nine
It had been exactly six hours, eighteen minutes, and twenty-three seconds since Cooper Heath kissed me on my mouth.
I could still remember the strawberry taste of him… the whiskery feel of him… the utter liquid heat of his relaxed body against mine.
And my brain couldn’t stop replaying all of it over and over.
I’d kissed a guy. Which wasn’t as big a deal as the fact it had been Cooper Heath. I’d kissed Cooper. Well, more like he’d kissed me. Yeah, it had been for the camera, but still. It had happened. It had been a real kiss, even if it hadn’t meant anything to him. I hadn’t had all that many kisses in my life, so this one was going in the hall of fame whether I wanted it to or not.
Because I’d felt that kiss in my belly. And other places.
Being physically turned on by a man didn’t surprise me as much as being physically turned on by anyone. I’d really never thought of myself as all that sexual. I’d even googled things like “not interested in sex” and “when your friends seem to care about sex more than you.” I’d learned terms like gray, asexual, and demisexual even though I’d never really “diagnosed” which one I was. I didn’t like the idea of being any of those things because I felt like that meant something in me wasn’t quite right. Even though my brain knew that wasn’t true, society kind of felt that way, especially where I lived. If I’d said I was “gray” in Wheatland, Wyoming, everyone would have told me to get outside in the sunshine and get some more vitamin D. Or just “cheer up.”