Page 89 of The Fast Lane

You, dummy. You.

The server arrived with our drinks and the biggest, thickest wedge of pie I’d ever seen. A piece of pie I would be forever grateful for since it saved me from saying something stupid. I’d already made a fool of myself a long time ago over Theo; I wasn’t about to do it again.

Thank God for pie. I should put that on my tombstone, too.

After consuming drink number two—a frozen French silk pie cocktail—and announcing I loved it so much, I wanted to marry it, Theo wisely paid our tab, and we headed back to the hotel. We’d spent two hours not talking about a single serious thing including: 1) my confession about Alec; 2) Theo’s newfound family; or 3) the weird tension between us that had been growing steadily.

Sure, I tried to bring up the scene today at his father’s house, but he wasn’t interested in talking about it. I hoped he opened up about it later. But Theo was also a thinker. Never knew exactly what was going on in his head. Unless you were sixteen, showed up at his dorm room on a random Thursday morning, confessed your undying love, and tried to kiss him.

Then he told you exactly what he thought.

I giggled. I’d put him in an awful predicament, and he’d been kind about it, sweet even. Not that I recognized that at the time. I was a kid; he was in college. I was stalker-level intense about my feelings; he was sensible.

“Maybe this is the alcohol talking,” I announced halfway back to our hotel. “But remember that time I came to your dorm room and told you I was in love with you?”

“I remember, trust me.” His eyes crinkled in the corners.

“I’m sorry I did that. It was a dumb idea.”

“It was definitely memorable.”

“And embarrassing.”

He shrugged, a corner of his mouth inching up. “I don’t know. It was kind of sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Well, sure. And brave.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I used to be brave.”

“Telling someone you’re in love with them and you’re not sure how they feel takes a lot of guts.” He stepped a tiny bit closer. A streetlight hit his eyes just right, making them look dark and liquid. “I’m not brave enough to do it now.”

Carefully—I didn’t want to poke him in the eyeball in my current state—I traced the lines at the corners of his eyes with my fingers. “I love these. They give you away sometimes.”

Theo held himself very, very still. “What do they give away?”

“That you’re thinking very hard. Or you have something important to say. Or you’re amused. ’Cause I amuse you.” Grinning, I threw my arms out, and spun in a circle. My stomach didn’t like that. Also, I was pretty sure I’d stopped and yet the ground was still moving. Was it getting closer? Was I?—

“Whoa, there,” Theo said, his voice close to my ear. He’d hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest.

“I don’t think I should have had that second drink, Theodore.”

He snorted and turned me gently. “Think you might be right about that.”

I blinked at him. “You look like an angel.”

“That’s the streetlight.”

I shook my head and patted his chest where his heart was. Or should be, I thought. Not a doctor. “Nope. You’re my angel. I’m sure of it.”

His eyes did the crinkle thing again and then dropped to my mouth. My breath caught, my stomach clenched in anticipation and then…he slowly let go, his hands hovering around my shoulders just in case I tried to tip over.

I frowned. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“Do you want me to?”

“So much, Theo. I want you to, so much. I have dreams about it,” I whispered. “Do you want to kiss me?”