Could he see me so easily? Sense that there was something dark sucking at me from the inside and that only recently I’d started to gather and toss tiny pieces of it away?

He must be able to, because the longer I stood motionless, the more the laughter left his eyes, serious concern taking its place.

“Americano?” I finally managed to ask.

“Sounds perfect.” He cleared his throat, pushing off the counter to stand straight.

Damn, he could sense it. My fear over the fact had killed his playful mood. Something twisted inside my stomach, desperate for it to come back. I turned away from him, happy to not have his penetrating gaze on me as I pressed the espresso into the machine and waited on it to brew.

“So, what were you working on?” he asked as I slid the mug toward him.

Heat pulsed in my cheeks as my mind circled back to the last comment I’d read—a girl asking if I’d ever fantasized about being with another girl. It was a solid question, one I was sure both sexes pondered, but I wasn’t sure if it was the question for the next blog. I wouldn’t know until I’d made it through the latest batch of comments. I made a mental note to file it under my starred section so that if the blog continued to be successful, I could address it later. I’d need as many valid and vital questions as I could to post daily.

“Damn,” he said before I answered, and I snapped out of my thoughts. “Were you looking at shirtless photos of Ryan Gosling or something?”

He took a fast sip of his Americano before nodding toward my face. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” I covered my cheeks. “It’s warm in here.”

“That’s the only excuse you ever have,” he teased, referring to our chat from two weeks ago.

“I wasn’t.”

He pressed his lips together, mischief in his blue-gray eyes. “Ryan Reynolds?”

I shook my head.

“Chris Hemsworth?”

“No.” I laughed.

“Evans?”

“Nope.”

“Pine?”

I chuckled.

“Pratt?”

“No.”

He sighed, setting his mug down. “Scarlett Johansson?”

“This is a fun game.” I smiled but shook my head.

“It’s not as fun as I thought it’d be.”

“Why?” I asked, leaning over the counter. “Because you’re losing?”

“Because you’re cheating.”

I scoffed. “I am not!”

“There is no way you’re not attracted to one of those people.”

“I never said that.” I smirked. “They’re all insanely gorgeous and I love them in their characters for different reasons.”

“But,” he said, wrinkling his nose like he was trying to figure me out. “They aren’t enough to make you blush.”

I shrugged.

“Give me a hint.”

“Why does it matter?”