It would kill me to do it, considering she'd been so nice to me tonight and hadn't crossed the line. The fact I wanted to leap so far over that frigging line wasn't helping.
"Shouldn't we be closer to the sign?"
She shook her head, not taking her eyes off the road. "It's not worth trekking up Mount Lee. The trails are tough and there's a razor-wire fence which means even if we did make the climb, we can't get within twenty feet of it."
"Seriously? Then that's the biggest piece of false advertising I've ever seen." I snorted. "Everyone thinks the Hollywood sign is LA. It's iconic. And you're telling me we can't even get near it?"
"Yep." She shot me a cheeky grin. "I'll make it up to you by throwing in my Santa Monica special tour."
"Let me guess. We can't get near the pier unless we swim with sharks?"
She chuckled. "Funny guy." She jerked her head toward the window. "Take a look. We're almost at the corner of Glen Holly and Beachwood Canyon Drive, which means you'll get to see your precious sign."
"But I want to get near it." At that moment I caught sight of the gigantic HOLLYWOOD sign and had to admit, it was impressive.
If the Sydney Harbor Bridge and Opera House defined Sydney for tourists, this sign was it for me in LA. I wouldn't forget my first glimpse of it. Especially as Mia had pulled over in a secluded spot, killed the engine and was currently staring at me with more than friendship in her eyes.
"No," I said, getting out of the car before I did something monumentally stupid, like hauling her into my lap.
She stepped out of the driver's side and followed me. "I didn't ask a question for you to refuse."
I sank onto a log and dropped my head into my hands. "You didn't have to. You're easier to read than a Penthouse."
She wrinkled her nose. "I thought we've had a nice evening. If you've read more into it than there is—"
"I may be many things, an idiot isn't one of them." I glared at her, wishing she'd show some reaction other than radiating calm, which only served to rile me further.
"Never said you were." She touched my knee and I jumped like she'd tasered me. "What's really wrong?"
It wouldn't do any good to articulate half the confusion I was feeling but odds were Mia had inherited her dad's persistence, the same dogged determination that had earned Dirk fifteen Grand Slams in a row.
"I'm having a hard time keeping my hands off you," I muttered, curling my fingers into my palms to stop from demonstrating. "The only option we have is to be friends but after last night … what happened between us …" I shook my head. "It's harder than I thought it'd be."
She patted my knee before removing her hand. It should've been a condescending gesture. Coming from Mia, it seemed comforting. "I get where you're coming from, wanting to be just friends. I'm a complication you don't need."
She sounded so forlorn I wanted to hug her. "If my dad has any say in it, this time next year you'll be on the ATP circuit, then it's the Slams after that."
Wish I had her confidence. "I haven't even done the pro tour yet, and that's the only way to earn early world ranking points."
"You're being fast-tracked if you're at Cresswell Academy." She turned to face me and I almost choked on my next breath. The admiration blazing from her steady gaze made me feel like I'd already won Wimbledon. "You think you're at the academy because your dad promised money to mine? Well, here's a newsflash, hotshot. My dad doesn't need money. And he wouldn't accept you just to settle an old score between buddies." She poked me in the chest. "My dad trains winners. Grand Slam winners. He wouldn't risk his reputation on anything less."
As Mia's heartfelt words sunk in, for the first time since I'd arrived in LA, I allowed myself to hope.
I wanted to play shit-hot tennis to repay my dad for the faith he'd shown in me over the last seven years, since he'd discovered I existed. He could've wimped out, considering I was a major pain in the arse. He didn't. And with my latest indiscretion, being booted out of Australia's number one academy, he'd really come through for me.
But what if I was good enough to satisfy my toughest critic, me?
"Thanks," I said, awkwardly reaching for her hand and grabbing it before I thought better of it. "Though you know you've just given me another reason why we can't be more than friends, right?"
She squeezed my hand, and held on tight. It felt fucking great. "I'm hoping once you get your head around the fact my dad sees you as a top tennis prospect and you've earned your spot, there may be room for me in your life too."
I swear my chest ached at her honesty. Not many women would take the risk of putting themselves out there, especially after I'd already dropkicked her heart. But I couldn't afford to waver. There was too much riding on this.