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“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” I say primly.

“You’re lying, but that’s fine. Everything suits me.” He puts a hand on his cheek and looks straight at me. “Slap me when I come at you this time. So if you’re ever in a situation where a little shove on the chest doesn’t work, you know what to do.”

He’s pushing the limits.

He’s pushingmylimits.

Irritation slithers down my spine. Irritation at him for correctly reading the situation so quickly. He identified one of my core fears within one lesson. I’m terrified of making people upset. I’m a people-pleaser to my core, with everyone but him. And he’s challenging that.

When someone is in front of me, asking something of me… I don’t know how to handle it. That’s why I just say no to dates, or say yes to my family and friends. I don’t know how to find the middle ground. To sayno, I don’t want to kiss you yet, but I do want to go on another date with you.

To negotiate. Towhat if we do it this way?

The easiest way to handle a conflict is to avoid it.

Works every time.

“Nora,” he says, his voice darkening. “You’ve been so good today. Can you do this too? Remember how annoying I am. How I control your life. How I’ve forced you to date me in public. You can hit me. You don’t even like me.”

I roll my neck. “Not right now, no.”

His grin flashes. Then he takes a step forward. And another. We’ve ended up close to one of the large machines in the gym, and my back hits the machinery.

He’s crowding me in.

“Do you want me to pretend to be the stalker?” he asks. “Or a date who won’t take no for an answer?”

I think of the way it feels when he comes close. Of his breath against my lips and the fluttering in my stomach that happens each and every time. The wondering of what it would feel like if this was different.

“The second one,” I whisper.

He puts a hand beside me, locking me in on one side. My heart picks up with speed when he lowers his head. His eyes drop to my lips, and he’s watching me like I’m all he’s ever wanted. All he’s ever needed. “You’re so pretty, it destroys me.”

Oh my god.

He’s upped the levers by ten.

“Can I kiss you?” His lips come closer, and there’s a pounding in my head. “Nora, let me kiss you.”

My eyelids flutter like they want to close.Please do,I want to say. But he doesn’t mean it. He’s pretending, just like we’re both meant to be pretending. This is all fake.

And he wants me to slap him.

I put my hands on his chest instead, and I push him away like I’ve done before. Except he barely budges. He just chuckles and runs his fingers over my hair. Pushes a tendril behind my ear.

I once dreamed of him looking at me like this.

Now he is, and it undoes me. And Ihatethat I’m still attracted to him after everything. After what he said. After agreeing to help me out only to do his best friend a favor. Ishouldn’twonder what his kiss would really feel like.

And right now I hate that part of me.

So I slap his cheek with my right hand. The sound rings out in the space, and before I can think, I push him back and lift up with my knee. It hits his groin. Not very hard, because I’m still holding back. But it sends West backward, and I stumble after him, my free hand still on his chest.

I don’t know who loses balance first. But we fall to the ground, and he wraps his free arm around my waist, softening the blow with his body. We hit the ground with a groan.

I’m half draped over him. My leg between his, my chest pressed to his.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He lifts his free hand and runs it over his face, hiding his eyes from view.