Page 64 of Lost Love on 6th Street

“Now, you know that’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

It is. “I could be awful to be around after a while.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says.

I twist my lips. “I could be terrible in bed!”

“I highly doubt that too,” he says, his eyelids lowering with lust.

I sigh.

He repositions his arm on the back of the bench, sliding himself closer. “Do you not want me to like you?”

“No,” I say.

Luke’s brow hardens. “You’re trying not to hurt my feelings?”

“No,” I say even more firmly. “Of course not. I wouldn’t be out here in a boat with you if I didn’t like you . . . a lot.”

“Then what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asks, then presses a kiss to my temple. “Tell me. I want to know.”

I lean into his kiss. “I might have to leave.”

Luke adjusts some of my curls out of my face. “You mean because of your job?”

I nod. “If I don’t get an extension at Reeder, I’ll need to find a new job. And that might not be in Austin. And I’m not trying to get ahead of myself; I know this is—shit —this is our first date, and we’re not talking marriage or anything, but—”

Oh my god, Eleanor, just shut up.

Thankfully, Luke isn’t pulling away or looking for an exit plan. “I don’t think it’s fair to either of our feelings to act like the past month we’ve spent together hasn’t informed at least some of our feelings. Right?”

“It’s so irrational,” I say. “To already be thinking long-term when—”

“When something’s right, it’s right . . . right?” Luke asks.

His blue eyes are almost pleading with me to agree. Let him know he’s not alone in this.

“What happened to not rushing?” I ask with a half-laugh.

Luke lifts his head and laughs. It echoes across the water. “Okay, fair point. But you were the one who brought it up.”

“I know I did. I’m just trying to sort out . . .” I place my forehead in my palm. “I care about you. So much. And I’m scared.”

“Nor, look at me,” he says, grabbing my wrist gingerly.

I do so though it’s hard because I know my body has a mind of its own when Luke crowds my vision. All common sense goes out the window. Logical steps become hurried and desperate actions. And my heart fucking aches.

“I want to date you. And keep dating you. And hopefully, date you even a little longer than that.”

I laugh, pressing my lips into a smile.

“If you want to stay in Austin, then I’m determined to keep you here. And if you want to go, you go. Even though that will probably kill me.”

“Stop that.”

“It will, I’m sure of it,” he says, then gives me a playful smirk. “We don’t have to know everything all at once.”

I huff. “I like knowing everything all at once.”

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