Page 90 of The Way We Touch
My brow lowers. “Jealousy’s not a good look on you.”
She holds up both hands. “Easy, big guy. I was only teasing. I actually walked over to say you’re different. You seem happier than you’ve ever been—or at least than you ever were with me.”
“We had very little in common.” I take another sip of whiskey.
“Is that true?” Her eyes narrow. “I’d say we have very much in common. We’re both from wealthy, detached parents. We’re both smarter than the professions we’ve chosen.”
“I’ve never cared for stereotypes.”
“Still, they have a basis in fact. Models and jocks are not typically geniuses, but you and I notice things.”
“What have you noticed?” Not that I particularly care.
“You’re dating this little girl from the country. I can’t think of a better way to get back at your father. I’m sure he’s so proud.”
I study her, trying to figure out if she’s joking. Anyone close to me knows I don’t have that kind of relationship with my father.
“You know me so well.” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my tone.
“I’m simply trying to say she’s very sweet, and you seem happy. That’s all.”
“In that case, have a nice evening.”
I want to find my girl and dance with her in that dress.
20
Dylan
The gala was a fairytale. We stayed longer than I expected, spinning around the dance floor in a swirl of starlight. Logan held me in his arms like my very own handsome prince, and when we finally got home, we barely made it through the door before he had me pinned against the wall.
Our reunion has been ravenous and aggressive, and I’ve loved every second of it.
We had brunch with Garrett, who claimed he took Lainey home after the event. I don’t know why he feels like he has to explain himself to me. He can date whomever he wants, even if he’s never really been the supermodel type. I don’t judge.
Strolling through Central Park, Logan and I hold hands. He buys me a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers at a little newsstand, and we stop off at Ray’s for pizza before walking to his apartment, where we spend our final night in each other’s arms.
Our beautiful getaway weekend comes to an end with us standing on the tarmac at 7 a.m. in the misty rain with the chill of winter lacing the gray air.
“I hate to say goodbye.” Blinking against the fog, I fight my tears.
“We’re not saying goodbye, although I am starting to see the drawback of timeshare planes.” He grumbles, holding me firmly in his arms at the base of the small staircase. “If it were my plane, I could fly back with you.”
“You couldn’t do that.” I force a smile. “You have a game tonight.”
Leaning down, he kisses the side of my cheek. “I really like thinking of you watching me play. I wish I could look up and see you in my box.”
I don’t want to tell him how difficult it would be for me. Instead, I simply say, “One of these times.”
“Thanksgiving?” He slides a finger along my jaw, gazing into my eyes. “We have a game on Black Friday every year.”
In the past I’d be shopping or hiding out from where Jack and Zane (and Craig and Thomas) would be glued to the screen all weekend. I’m part of the club now, knotted stomach and all, and I can’t tell my gorgeous boyfriend no.
“Then I’ll be here.”
A different flight attendant gently clears her throat. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we do need to get going if we’re going to stay on schedule.”
He leans down to kiss me for real. Our tongues curl together, and I can’t hold back a little sob. He pulls my lips before kissing a line to my cheek where a stubborn tear has fallen.