He recognized his fatal error almost immediately. That’s what I do. As in, that’s what he does when he makes his own TikTok videos. He frowned. Maybe Sophie hadn’t noticed...
“Dash.” She cautiously said his name, and it came out breathy. Why did he like the sound of it so much? “When you say, ‘That’s what I do,’ do you mean that you make TikTok videos?”
“I did not say that.” He shook his head no, but a sly expression crossed her face.
“And, like, you have some account where you do what, exactly?” Now Sophie sounded almost amused, which he didn’t like at all. “Is your username just @DashMontrose? Does Poppy know?” Sophie took a phone out of her dress pocket, but Dash stopped her before she could open the app. Not that she’d ever find him.
“No, I just meant that I always try to be myself when I’m in front of the cameras. Like, in my past films, or whatever.”
Sophie looked up and just blinked for a few moments. “So you were trying to be yourself in that movie where you played a psychopath in a rabbit costume?”
“Especially for that role, yes.”
“Whatever you say.” Sophie quirked up her lip, as if about to push him more, but he didn’t want to explain himself.
His whole body felt warm from the very real threat of his anonymous account being discovered. If his parents knew how he was spending his days, they’d find a way to shut his TikTok down. He’d never let a slip like this happen before. What was wrong with him?
“Look, could you just not mention this to Poppy, please?”
She quickly nodded. “Okay, I won’t.”
“Good.” Dash straightened. Well, this was turning out to be a total mess. Not only had he managed to spill to Sophie that he was having trouble writing a speech for his dad, but now she knew he had a TikTok account. He really needed to stop answering his door.
“This might sound a little weird, but I need this TikTok thing to work.” Sophie pocketed her phone, perhaps as a show of good faith. “It’s kind of my last-ditch all is lost and I need to turn my career around moment. And it sounds like you know how to be successful on TikTok. You...may or may not have some account that I’ll never have the pleasure of seeing. But I would love your help to build mine into something meaningful. If I can use this awful viral video to help me get a big following and, who knows, get some creative juices flowing again, then that will change my life. So, like, maybe we can help each other here. I can write this speech for your dad, and you can give me video advice.”
He planned to solve his speech problem the good old-fashioned way by simply avoiding working on it. So he waved her suggestion off and grabbed the door frame to show he was ready to end the conversation. “You don’t need my help.”
“Social media really isn’t my thing.” Sophie took a step forward, and he was surprised that he didn’t mind having her close. “But I’m willing to get good at it if it means another book. And not to be dramatic, but if this doesn’t work, my life is over. So, like, please help me be better at TikTok.”
She clasped her hands in front of her chest, very much begging for help. “If I say please again, does that sweeten the deal?”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Her kind, almond-shaped eyes pleaded with him, and for whatever reason, he was inexplicably lingering when he should’ve simply closed the door. Why was he so stuck in place just from looking at her? Had he avoided other people for so long that now, when faced with one, he was at a loss for how to act?
“Okay, fine, I’ll help.” The words tumbled out of him before he could think through what agreeing to working with Sophie would really mean.
But they had come out, and he realized that he couldn’t easily take them back. Sophie’s whole face lit up with pure relief, and she clapped with all the enthusiasm she had.
Dash was close enough to cover her hands with his. “No clapping, though.”
She stared at their hands for a beat, and he realized how warm his were when compared to the coolness of her skin.
“You got it, boss.” Sophie took her hands back from his, and she glanced at her palms before meeting his gaze again.
“Don’t call me boss,” he added. “That’s weird.” Weird in that his dick seemed to kind of like it. Which was when he remembered that he was still only wearing boxers. He readjusted his stance and put the bag of bagels in front of him for an added buffer.
Sophie tightly smiled and, perhaps sensing that Dash might change his mind, turned away from him with a nod. He was relieved as he watched her pad back toward her house. What the hell was he thinking? His whole world was meant to be routine, boring, and singularly focused on staying the course. But now, not only had he agreed to help Sophie, he was going to have to rely on her as well.
Dash’s thoughts spun like unwieldy clay on a pottery wheel as he drove his cherry-red Volvo P1800 to Chris’s house. The car was a birthday gift his dad had bought him—gifts were his dad’s only real way of showing affection—because Roger Moore had driven one in a James Bond movie. The car was more his dad’s flashy, old-Hollywood style than Dash’s. But still...even he couldn’t deny how gorgeous she was as he removed the tarp. She was all shiny and round with smooth edges. And he’d lovingly cared for his car since the day he got her eighteen years ago.
Chris only lived a few blocks away, but with the windows down, the wind from the short drive slapped Dash across the face in a necessary and helpful way. So by the time he parked, his jitters had faded and he felt refreshed.
When he rang the doorbell, Chris answered with Luna on his hip. The baby seemed to assess Dash, her gaze more than a little skeptical. “Is she mad at me?” Dash asked.
“Don’t take it personally. Mira calls her discerning.” Chris opened the door wide, and Dash stepped in. Their house pre-newborn had always been a little messy, and now it was the same level of mess, plus a bonus smattering of toys.
Dash nodded to Chris. “The FaceTime calls didn’t do that beard justice, man.”
“I have a beard?” Chris, who was usually clean-shaven, now had thick and scraggly facial hair.
Dash held out his hands to take Luna. She glared back but didn’t protest when Dash lifted her.
Chris shook out his arms. “She’s twelve pounds. It shouldn’t hurt this much.”
“I work out for an hour and get sore. You’re lifting all day.” Dash spoke to Chris but kept his eyes on Luna. Her little fingers found the collar of his cotton shirt and tugged.
Chris patted Dash on the back and grabbed a baby carrier from the bar stool at the kitchen island. “You’re going to a meeting.”
Dash frowned, both at Luna’s Hulkish grip on his shirt and Chris’s words. “I came over to help—”