I took a bite, trying to figure out what to say, and honestly, trying to figure out why I wasn’t having a shitty time. This meal wasn’t something either of us likely thought we would enjoy much. We’d decided to do this thing together—well, I couldn’t figure out why Shaw had agreed to it, but he had, and that was the only thing between us.
“You and your parents are close?” he asked a moment later.
“Yeah. Most of our family is.” Except for the judgmental assholes. “Mom and me especially.” He nodded, and I asked, “You?”
“Not really. My parents are difficult…and a little crazy. It always turns into a thing when we’re together. Your family likes Danny?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t they? Plus, he played football and Dad played football, so they got to be all dude-bro over that.” There was a hint of resentment in my voice that I thought I’d buried a long time ago. I was okay with the fact that I’d rather dance than throw a ball, and I was okay with people who would rather do the opposite.
“That was probably tough.”
“Huh?”
Shaw shrugged. “Your dad…that he and Danny had that in common and you didn’t.”
“It was fine.” I waved off his concern. “Are you sure you’re not a secret therapist?”
Shaw laughed. “Only unofficially, which you know about.”
It was weird, all the questions he asked me. I mean, I got it. We had to give the impression we knew things about each other because I assumed we would be spending time together with Danny, or at least pretending we were spending time together. “What do you do?” It had hit me as we sat there that I didn’t even know.
“A little of everything. You know about my free side gig, but I also like photography. It’s another side thing I do when there’s interest or when I feel like it. I started in real estate a few months back. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet. I used to be a personal trainer, but that wasn’t really my thing.”
I couldn’t help wondering what his thing actually was—not becoming a therapist, or real estate, or photography, or personal training. I didn’t want my question to break the current peace treaty between us, so I didn’t ask him. “I teach Pilates, which you know.”
“What else do you like?”
“Dance. I always wanted to dance. I started ballet when I was young. I thought I would end up at Juilliard, and dance would be my future. Obviously, that didn’t happen.” I paused for a moment, my chest tight. I was surprised I’d said that to him.
“Why?”
“You know how it goes.” I waved off the question.
“You love it. I can see that.”
Not for the first time, Who are you? drifted through my head. I couldn’t make sense of Shaw. I didn’t understand him at all. One minute he was the king of sarcasm and cockiness, the next he was writing messages like he had to Rural and seeing things in me I hadn’t meant to show. “Well, yeah. I didn’t get into Juilliard. As I got older, I danced less and less, until I simply stopped.”
“You should dance, E.”
I shifted in my seat, my skin feeling prickly as nerves rode my spine in waves. It was a weird-ass reaction to something so simple, but it felt intimate—the way he said it, and calling me E again. “You should…” I started but then didn’t know how to finish. Shaw had given me a whole list of things he’d realized he wasn’t into, but nothing that he was. “Figure out what you love and do that,” I finally settled on.
But the fervor with which he spoke on Charades & Sexcapades, and the fact that he was here with me now, told me how passionate he was about that site and helping people. It was a huge flashing sign I couldn’t miss, telling me what an ass I was, how I’d misjudged him. “Thank you for tonight, and for this.” I pointed back and forth between us. “For the emails and helping me now.”
He grinned. It was the cocky one, which automatically made me roll my eyes. Shaw leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms. I’d be blind not to notice how his short-sleeved tee stretched across the firm muscles of his arms and chest, and ugh, I didn’t want him to be so cute. Why did cocky boys always have to be so sexy?
“Wow, that was really hard for you to say. It’s okay to admit you like me.”
“But I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“Someone wants me to like him. Is there a reason for that, Shaw?” Then it was me crossing my arms. There. What did he think about that?
“How about the fact that you’re hot?”
My mouth dropped open, and my heart swooped to my stomach, hanging out with my dinner. I had…not expected him to say that, even though he had been checking me out the night before.