Chapter Text
Step Three: Discover His Interests
"Step three: discover his interests. Does he like music, sports, or a particular TV show? Showing genuine interest in the things he enjoys can help you start conversations and find common ground."
“Considering you know everything about him, you can probably skip that step,” Eloise murmured without much interest as she peeled off her face mask. “Although, now that I think about it, you don't actually have much in common. Other than being the third child, I suppose.”
Penelope, who had already removed her own mask, couldn't help but agree.
Of course she knew Colin.
Colin Bridgerton was a man who had traveled the world. He had studied abroad, visited incredible places, and collected enough stories to fill several books. He had always been popular—kind, charismatic, intelligent. Everyone loved him.
And Penelope couldn't blame them.
She, on the other hand, had spent most of her life being invisible. Only those who took the time to truly know her ever came to appreciate her. She was a bookworm who had only recently begun to come out of her shell at university.
“No, we don't have much in common,” she admitted, lowering her gaze. “Then I'll just have to find something.”
Eloise rolled her eyes.
Penelope pouted before getting to her feet.
“So he's not home tonight?”
“He's having dinner at Francesca's with the Stirlings.”
Penelope nodded thoughtfully as she slipped on her slippers.
“I'm going to get some yogurt.”
“Strawberry,” Eloise reminded her before she left the room.
Penelope headed toward the kitchen, but stopped abruptly when she noticed that the door to Colin's study—normally kept shut—was slightly ajar.
She bit her lip.
Looked both ways down the hallway.
And stepped inside.
The room was empty.
Penelope glanced around. It was small but cozy, with a desk in the center, an armchair beside a modest bookshelf, and decorative objects scattered throughout.
Everything about the room screamed Colin Bridgerton.
A large map covered one wall. A globe sat nearby, alongside model ships and souvenirs from his travels.
And on the desk rested a notebook.
A journal.
Penelope's heart skipped a beat.
Of course Colin Bridgerton kept a journal.
He wrote.
She wrote.
There it was.
Something they had in common.
Maybe this was the sign she'd been waiting for.
She glanced once more toward the open door before picking up the journal.
She opened it.
“What are you doing here?”
Colin's voice made her jump.
Penelope looked up sharply.
“C-Colin!”
“That would be Colin, yes.”
He crossed the room in a matter of seconds and snatched the journal from her hands.
Penelope stumbled back in surprise.
“What do you think you're doing?”
“Colin, I—”
“You were reading my journal.”
The blush covering his cheeks was impossible to ignore.
Colin Bridgerton was blushing.
Penelope was starting to get used to that sight.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”
“Of course. So it just opened itself?”
The sarcasm made her frown.
That was new.
She had never argued with Colin before.
She had seen him annoyed with his siblings, irritated over family matters, but never with her.
Never.
It was probably one of the reasons she'd fallen in love with him as a child.
But now Colin was looking at her with genuine anger.
His eyes narrowed.
His breathing uneven.
His cheeks flushed all the way to his ears.
If Penelope hadn't been so offended, she probably would have melted right into the carpet over how ridiculously handsome he looked when he was angry.
Instead, she crossed her arms.
“Well, if it was that private, maybe you shouldn't leave it where anyone can see it.”
Colin opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
Clearly, he hadn't expected such a blunt response.
“It was in my study, Penelope. Hardly where just anyone could get to it.”
“The door was open.”
“Please leave.”
He turned back toward the desk and dropped the journal onto it with more force than necessary.
“Damn—”
A poorly placed letter opener sliced across the palm of his hand.
“Colin!”
Every trace of annoyance vanished from Penelope's face when she saw the blood.
“Wait here.”
She rushed out of the room.
Less than a minute later, she returned carrying the first-aid kit Violet Bridgerton insisted on keeping stocked at all times.
“Let me see.”
She reached for his hand, but Colin hesitated.
He was still upset.
Penelope rolled her eyes.
“Please. Before it gets infected.”
Eventually, he relented.
She cleaned the wound with alcohol.
Colin hissed.
“Stop moving.”
“I'm trying.”
The silence that followed felt strangely intimate.
Penelope carefully wrapped the injured palm, focused on every movement.
And Colin, watching her from above, began to feel terribly guilty.
He had reacted like an idiot.
Penelope was his sister's best friend. She had been a constant presence in his life for years.
And even after he'd spoken to her harshly, she was standing there, tending to his injury with endless patience.
“I'm sorry, Pen.”
She looked up.
“I shouldn't have reacted like that. The truth is... I was embarrassed. No one has ever read my private writing before.”
A small smile appeared on Penelope's lips.
“Don't worry. I was the one who made the mistake. I shouldn't have gone into your study in the first place.”
“Even so, I shouldn't have spoken to you that way.”
“Thank you.”
“It won't happen again.”
Penelope held his gaze.
And she believed him.
The worst part was that she still found herself wondering whether it was possible to fall even more in love with someone she had already loved for years.
“I write too, you know.”
Colin's expression softened.
“I know. And you're incredible.”
Of course he knew.
He had read her letters for years.
He had watched her stories win competitions.
He had followed every small literary success from afar.
She studied English Literature.
She was talented.
Far more talented than she gave herself credit for.
And somehow, that only made him feel even more embarrassed about being caught.
Penelope finished adjusting the bandage.
“Your writing is good too.”
Colin blinked.
“You read enough to know that?”
“Enough. I felt like I was there with you. The way you describe places... it's beautiful.”
Colin's heart skipped a beat.
“You really think so?”
“I do.”
She smiled.
“You're incredible, Colin.”
And he believed her.
Because he had never met anyone as sincere as Penelope Featherington.
“Thank you, Pen.”
For a moment, neither of them looked away.
The air felt warmer.
Heavier.
More dangerous.
Penelope was the first to break eye contact.
She quickly stood up and began putting away the first-aid supplies.
She needed cold water.
She needed to remember the plan.
She needed to stop thinking about Colin's lips.
Meanwhile, Colin watched her.
Really watched her.
It was nearly midnight.
She wore an oversized pair of pajamas that concealed most of her figure. Her hair was loose and slightly messy. Freckles dusted her bare face.
And her lips were shining.
“Cherry.”
Penelope suddenly looked up.
“Sorry?”
Colin froze.
He had said it out loud.
“The... the flavor.”
“The lip balm?”
She smiled.
“Yes. Cherry.”
“Would you like to try it?”
“What?”
“The lip balm.”
Penelope took a step toward him.
“Would you like to try it?”
Colin's brain stopped functioning.
“How exactly would I...?”
“Don't tell me you're one of those men with fragile masculinity who refuses to take care of his lips.”
She pulled the lip balm from her pocket and held it up with complete innocence.
Colin felt an overwhelming urge to disappear.
“I'm fine, thank you.”
“If you say so. Good night, Colin.”
Penelope slipped the lip balm back into her pocket and left the room.
Only after the door closed behind her did Colin place a hand against his chest.
His heart was pounding against his ribs.
And for the first time in a very long while, he was forced to admit something uncomfortable.
The reason for it was Penelope Featherington.
His sister's best friend.