Page 21

“Why are you parking here?” he asks, puzzled.

“Because we’re doing the Walk of Fame.” I smile smugly at him.

He stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “You’re serious. So we’re hitting all the tourist traps?”

“Yep.” I open the door to step out of the car, and I hear him mumble under his breath. It sounded a lot like “unbelievable.”

It turns out that after a few minutes of embarrassment and looking like a fish out of water, he actually enjoys his tour.

Especially when he compares his hands and feet with the imprints in front of the theatre.

He grins smugly when he realizes his hands are bigger than most of the handsome actors’ there.

Everything is a competition for him, and he hates to lose.

“Why are you going in there?” he asks, looking suspiciously at the souvenir shop.

“Are you always like this? Asking why for everything?”

“Yes, if someone drags me around the city, making me do stupid things.”

“You’re acting like a toddler.”

“I am not.”

I look at him, raising my eyebrow. “You just proved my point.”

He scowls, and I chuckle.

“Try these.” I hand him a pair of pink flamingo-shaped sunglasses.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I quickly cut him off, my eyes twinkling with mischief.

“If you ask why again, I will stab you with this Hollywood sign.” I point at an ugly piece of metal that doesn’t even resemble the original.

He sighs but humors me and puts on the sunglasses. The pink flamingos perched on his nose make him look utterly ridiculous, and I can’t help but find it endearing. He is cute, and I feel my cheeks heat up. Since when do I consider a man cute?

“Happy now?” he asks, diverting my thoughts from a very dangerous path.

“No, we need proof of this moment.” I grab his hand and drag him toward the photo booth.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he mutters when he understands my intentions.

“Come on, have some fun!” I chirp, knowing it will annoy him even more, and I get, in fact, a side-eye from Leonard in response.

I open the curtain, then realize that pushing his boundaries might backfire. There is no way we can both fit side by side on this tiny bench. Leonard seems not to notice or care. He drags me inside, sits down, and then makes me sit on his lap. I’m petrified.

“Come on, put on those pineapple sunglasses so we can get over this craziness,” he grumbles.

The deep voice resonating against my back makes me realize how close we are, his strong arms wrapped around my waist, heat emanating from his perfect body. Jesus, is it hot in here, or is it just me?

“At least smile so it looks you’re enjoying it.” I turn my head to him. That was the wrong move. He’s so close, our lips are mere inches apart.

I can’t see his eyes, but a muscle twitch of his jaw and his grip on my waist tightening gives him away. He realizes how close we are, how intimate this situation is.

I’m barely aware of the camera taking pictures because when his hand reaches out to move a loose strand from my face, his fingers brush my skin, leaving a sizzling hot tingling that shoots sparks down to my core.

My eyes stray down to his lips, and the temptation to kiss that luscious mouth is almost unbearable. Just one small taste.

His fingers linger on my skin, tracing my jaw and cupping my neck. His thumb lightly outlines my pulse, stopping to enjoy the quickening of my heartbeat.

He licks his lips, and I feel mine burning with the desire to taste them. So close. We are so close I only need to bend a bit to give in to my craving for him. I squirm on his lap, squeezing my legs shut in the hope of relieving myself from the aching need to ride him in this booth.

“Are you done in there?” A girl’s voice startles us.

It’s like a slap in the face, and from the tightness of Leonard’s jaw, I know the feeling is mutual.

I was going to kiss him. If I had a few more seconds, I would have done it.

I stand up, open the curtain and notice an annoyed teenager ready to go in with someone I assume is her boyfriend.

He smirks when he sees Leonard coming out of the booth behind me.

I grab the strip of pictures without even looking at them, put them in my back pocket, and walk out without saying a word. I don’t want to address what just happened in there and from the way Leonard follows me out of the shop, I’m guessing he doesn’t either.

“Take care of those cheeks; put on some after-sun cream, or your skin will peel off,” Leonard says to me when I park in front of his house.

“Sure.”

The silence that follows is awkward. We spent our day strolling around the Santa Monica Pier and Venice beach.

We had lunch at a café, talking about everything and nothing but never addressing that moment in the photo booth.

It’s like we silently agreed that it never happened.

But now, in front of his house, everything is coming back.

Leonard should leave my car, and I should go home, but neither of us is making a move to end this day.

“If this were a date, I’d ask you to come in, but this is not a date , so I’ll just say goodbye here and see you tomorrow,” he says, looking me in the eyes.

I don’t know why he needs to point it out. Does he really assume I’m delusional enough to think otherwise? Still, I feel a pang of disappointment making its way into my chest.

Going in right now is the worst idea ever because the tension that was rising in that photo booth never got released. If I go in now, we’ll make the worst mistake we can possibly make. Leaving is the wise choice, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo.

“Yeah, sure.” I shrug, putting on my best poker face. “Wait!” I stop him from getting out of the car.

I grab the strip of pictures in my back pocket, rip it in half, and give half to him. He says nothing, but he stares at the pictures for a long moment. I watch his jaw twitch, his knuckles turning white around the door handle, and then he gets out without another glance at me.

I look at the pictures in my hand for the first time and my heart hammers in my chest. We’re just inches apart, my hand on his chest, his on my neck. Seconds away from the most sizzling kiss in history. And we look like long-time lovers.

This is not good. This is not good at all.