Page 67 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

“It feels like a new beginning for me and Dad.” Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “We finally broke through a wall I thought would keep us separated forever. So liberating. I never thought we’d get here.”

The perfect opening. I take a deep breath.

“Speaking of new beginnings,” I say, shifting to face her fully. “I was wondering if we could have one too.”

Her eyebrows draw together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“First, I need to address the elephant in the room,” I say. “About tonight.”

Her expression shutters slightly. “Right. How was your evening?”

“Nonexistent.” I hold her gaze, wanting her to see the truth in my eyes. “I didn’t go through with it, Sora. I didn’t meet with the client. I couldn’t.”

Her lips part in surprise. “You…what?”

“I stood outside her building for twenty minutes, then I just walked away. Spent two hours wandering around the city before I ended up at Rina’s.” I comb a hand through my hair. “I stood her up.”

“Was Rina angry? She said she wasn’t going to give you any more work if you bailed again.” Her voice rises an octave. “Forrest, what are you going to do about?—”

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” I cut her off gently. “Tonight, I just need you to know something.”

She waits, her dark eyes wide and uncertain.

“Do you know what makes me so attracted to you?” I ask.

A mischievous glint replaces the uncertainty. She cups her breasts through her oversized T-shirt and pushes them up slightly. “Obviously these double-Ds,” she jokes. Though to me her breasts are the definition of perfect; we both know she can barely fill a C-cup.

I laugh, the tension breaking. “Yes, obviously your massive rack. But know what else?” I crawl across the bed and plant myself right next to her.

I take her hands in mine, growing serious again.

“It’s how vulnerable you make yourself. How you show the world your bleeding heart with every book you write.

Even when it hurts, even when you struggle, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s so brave.”

She looks down at our joined hands. “That’s not bravery. That’s just me not knowing how to be any other way.”

“That’s exactly what makes it brave.” I squeeze her fingers. “You’re genuine. Kind. Tender. Sweet. Despite the garbage the world throws at you, you’re still powerless but to be yourself. It inspires me. It makes me want to be honest too.”

“Honest about what?”

“About how I feel. About what I want.” I take a deep breath. “I want to start over, Sora. From the very beginning of our story.”

She tilts her head, curious but still wary. “What do you mean?”

“That day at Papa Beans, the only reason I didn’t ask for your number was because of the baggage of my job. I want to go back to the very moment I laid eyes on you and try again.”

“Like a do-over?” she asks, amusement lingering in her tone.

I let go of her hands and stand up. Then, with exaggerated formality, I extend my hand toward her.

“Hi,” I say, putting on my most charming smile. “I’m Forrest Hawkins. I noticed you from across the room, and I just had to introduce myself.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes. She straightens her posture and delicately places her hand in mine.

“Sora Cho-Cooper,” she replies, playing along. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Cho-Cooper?” I furrow my brow in mock concentration. “Do I know you from somewhere? Aren’t you a mega-famous bestselling author?”

She laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. “I’m trying to manifest it.”

“I’m sure it’s not too far away. And you are stunning, by the way. Are you Asian by chance?” I ask, still holding her hand longer than strictly necessary for a handshake.

“My mother is Korean. And I should warn you right now, Forrest, I only date men who love spicy food.”

I smirk. “I love spicy food. It doesn’t feel like a bomb going off in my intestines at all.”

She chuckles. “Good to know.”

“So what are you working on these days?”

“A fantasy romance about a mermaid warrior princess and the dragon she falls in love with. It’s hot. Enemies to lovers. Rage sex and all that good stuff,” she says sarcastically.

“Sounds hot. Literally.”

She groans at my terrible pun, but her smile remains. “What about you, Forrest Hawkins? What do you do for work?”

I hesitate, suddenly aware that this game we’re playing has veered into real territory. “This is kind of embarrassing, but I used to be an escort. I actually quit tonight.”

The air falls silent between us. Our playful facade slips, reality reasserting itself.

Sora’s expression grows serious. “How are you going to make ends meet? What’s next? Why would you give up everything for?—”

“Whoa, whoa, lady,” I interrupt, trying to steer us back to lighter ground. “That’s a lot of invasive questions for a first meeting.” I wink at her. “But I like your moxie. How about we talk about something else? What do you do for fun when you’re not writing steamy dragon romance?”

She recognizes what I’m doing and plays along, though I can tell from the look in her eyes that we’ll be revisiting those questions later.

“I stress-bake,” she says.

“So you’re comfortable in the kitchen?” I ask skeptically.

“Oh, yes. A bona fide professional.”

I peer at her, trying to call out her obvious lies with one gaze. “Okay, Sora. What can you cook that’s not in the microwave?”

She narrows her eyes. “Just yesterday I made salmon croquettes with Creole a?oli.”

“First of all, that sounds delicious. Second of all, you really want to start our new relationship with just utter bullshit? I’ve seen you cook, woman. You ‘boiled’ spaghetti noodles in barely lukewarm water and were shocked they came out crunchy.”

“Oh my god,” she shrieks in frustration. “For the last time, they were rice noodles and they’re delicate! The water isn’t supposed to get too hot.” She groans in frustration as I chuckle at her huffiness.

“Tell the truth, Ms. Cho-Cooper.”

“Fine. My culinary skills are capped at microwaveable popcorn. I struggle with grilled cheese sandwiches. Happy?”

“It’s not a problem. I can cook. I could teach you if you’d like?”

“Can you?” she asks seriously. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, my current roommate is pretty territorial in the kitchen, so I try to make myself scarce. I think she’s trying to prove her domestic skills.”

She laughs. “She probably learned that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I bet she’s trying to improve her cooking skills to keep you interested.”

“It’s not necessary,” I say. “She could screw up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and I’d still think that woman walks on water.”

“Well, Forrest, that’s…problematic.” She purses her lips and shakes her head.

“What?”

“Two minutes into our conversation, and now I know you have the hots for your roommate. Red flag ,” she mouths.

Laughing, I stretch out on the bed beside her, careful to maintain a respectable distance. “Let’s forget about my roommate for a minute.”

“Fine,” Sora says with a cute smirk. “We’ll circle back to that later. So, are you from around here?”

“ Your bedroom ?” I ask. “I wasn’t born here, but I know my way around.

Are you looking for some tourist attractions?

Because the important parts are the vibrator hidden underneath the caboodle in the nightstand cupboard, and the secret stash of candy bars in the locked cashbox underneath the bed.

” I point to the door leading to the bathroom.

“The key is hidden on top of the doorframe.”

“I hate you,” she deadpans.

I burst out in a deep belly laugh again. “In all seriousness, I grew up in Wyoming, but came to the big city to be a hotshot lawyer.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“Had a moral crisis, tanked my career before it started, became an escort instead. You know, the usual career trajectory.”

“Naturally,” she says with a solemn nod.

“And you?”

“I’m a born-and-raised city girl. I walk or take cabs. My driver’s license is purposeless outside of getting me into R-rated movies and buying occasional wine coolers. But you know what I’ve always regretted? Not learning how to drive a stick shift.”

I sit up, suddenly excited. “Yeah? I’ll teach you.”

“You will?”

“Absolutely. My old truck is still parked at my dad’s ranch. It only runs if you sweet-talk it and sacrifice a quart of oil to the automotive gods. Perfect learning vehicle. If you can drive that thing, you could drive a semi.”

She giggles. “Sounds great. The only problem is last time I checked the map, the cab fare from Manhattan to Wyoming is a little out of my budget.”

“How about we fly? Next weekend?” Rina loaned me more than enough to fly my girls home.

Her eyes pop wide open. “What?”

“I know it’s a big step for a first date,” I say, watching her carefully, “but I want to take you home to meet Boone. Wyoming is beautiful in the winter. Cold as hell, but beautiful.”

Her smile grows to the point her cheek muscles look strained. “I’d love to go. It sounds like a perfect first official date.”

“Good.” I reach for her hand again, my thumb tracing familiar circles on her palm. She leans in closer, her lips relaxing as she flutters her lashes. I disappoint her with a brief peck on the lips.

“What the hell, Forrest?”

“I’ve been thinking about something else… Some rules we should implement.”

“Rules?”

I sigh, dreading the words about to spill out of my mouth. “I think we should wait to have sex. At least three official dates. Like a future couple, not like?—”

“An escort and a client?” she finishes for me, understanding the sentiment.

“Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes so hard, her pupils poke her brain before returning to stare at me, unimpressed. “Forrest, what is waiting going to accomplish? You’ve already had me in every position imaginable.”

“Come on. For me?” I pucker my bottom lip, trying to look irresistibly adorable. “This is for real. I want to do this right.”

She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Not until three dates, then?”

“Agreed.” I glance at the clock: 1:23 a.m. “Starting now.”

“Starting now,” she echoes, her eyes dropping briefly to my semi-bulge before meeting my gaze again. We look at each other for a long, charged moment.

“This is a terrible idea,” she whispers.

“The worst,” I agree, not moving.

“I mean, we’ve already seen each other naked.”

“Multiple times,” I add.

“And we’re adults.”

“Very adult.”

“And we’re both clearly consenting,” she emphasizes.

“So consenting.”

Another beat of silence.

“But this is our second chance, and we’re doing this right,” I say firmly, as if reminding myself.

This time I’m met with a baby eye roll. Not nearly as theatrical as the first. “Fine,” she mutters. “Starting tomorrow.”

“Technically today, but yes.”

She closes her laptop and sets it aside, then scoots down under her comforter. “You’re welcome to stay,” she says, patting the space beside her. “Just for sleep.”

“Just for sleep,” I agree, kicking off my shoes and sliding in next to her.

She turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. I can feel the warmth of her body inches from mine, the subtle shift of the mattress as she gets comfortable.

“Forrest?” Her voice is soft in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“I feel selfish saying it, but I’m glad you quit your job. You can keep my ten thousand dollars. I think you’re going to need it.”

I reach for her hand beneath the covers, threading our fingers together. “Would you still be with me if I was broke, living under a bridge?”

She squeezes my hand. “Definitely.”

“Good.” I pull her closer until her head is resting on my chest, her hair tickling my chin. “I promise it’ll be a really nice bridge. Lots of colorful graffiti. Tire-burning bonfires every night for the added romance.”

She laughs softly against my shirt. “Lovely.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head, marveling at how right this feels—just holding her, talking, laughing. No expectations, no performance, just us.

“Forrest?” she murmurs again, her voice growing sleepy.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad we’re starting over.”

I smile into the darkness, overwhelmed by the simple joy of this moment. “Me too, my little conch shell. Me too.”

Within minutes, her breathing evens out, her body growing heavy and relaxed against mine. I lie awake a while longer, savoring the feeling of having her in my arms, of knowing that tomorrow brings not just another day, but the first day of our real story together.

I’m getting a second chance at a first impression.

And this time, I’m determined to do it right.