Page 45 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“I mean, if you met someone that’s cool. You don’t need to hide it.”

“I haven’t,” I state, now serious. “Just been tired.”

“Never stopped you before.”

I frown. “Okay, what are you, the pussy police? First you forbid me from going after Isabella, and now I’m not bringing home enough girls?”

He shakes his head and turns to walk away. “Fine. Forget I said anything.”

After he disappears down the hall, I head back to my room. Sitting on the edge of my bed I fall backward to stare up at the ceiling. Okay, fine. So for the past few weeks I haven’t taken advantage of the girls who’ve thrown themselves at me. Not because I wasn’t attracted to them but because . . . because . . .

“Fuck,” I whisper, the truth hitting me square in the face after dodging it for nearly a week.

Because they’re not Isabella.

What the hell is wrong with me? Before she came into my life, I wouldn’t have batted an eye if a woman asked me to use her ass like a bongo drum, but now? All I can think of are the things I would do to her if I had her underneath me, on top of me, pinned up against my shower wall. And the worst part of it all? I think I could if I wanted to. I could so easily call her at the newspaper office, invite her over, and let things happen the way they’ve been raring to for weeks.

But I won’t. I can’t let feelings for a girl I hardly know get in the way of everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.

“I can’t believe he proposed!”

I freeze, last night’s water glass hanging suspended in the air, and my heart thuds as I recognize a familiar voice. A voice I may have, only a few minutes ago, dreamt moaning my name in my sleep.

Isabella is here. In my house.

“Can you believe it?” Becks says, her voice almost an octave higher than usual. “Just look at the ring.”

“It’s— Wow. It’s just gorgeous, Becks,” Isabella says. “But . . . you’re only eighteen. Isn’t that a bit young to get married?”

There’s a pause. “I don’t think so. James and I—We’ve been through a lot together, and I know there’ll never be anyone else I could love as much as I love him. So we just figured, why wait?”

I can’t help the smile that tugs on the corners of my lips. Maybe monogamyiscontagious, because listening to the way Becks talks about James is inspiring. It’s something I wished for, once upon a time in my life.

“So you’ll what? Get married in a year? In the summer? What’s the plan?” asks Isabella.

“Actually,” Becks says, her tone mischievous. “We’re going to drive to Vegas as soon as possible.” The words burst out of her in a giddy rush.

“What?”

At Isabella’s shrill exclamation I jump, the glass tumbling from my fingers and shattering to pieces on the floor. “Fuck,” I whisper, and I only now remember that I’m barefoot and in nothing but a pair of boxers.

Isabella and Becks run into the hallway and stop at the sight of the glass on the floor, their eyes trailing from my feet to my face.

“Dave?” Becks asks.

I stare open-mouthed at them, totally incapable of forming words.

“Hold on,” Becks says hurriedly. “I’ll go grab the broom. Don’t move. I don’t want you to cut your feet.”

Fuck.Now I’m alone with Isabella wearing hardly anything. Now would be an incredibly unfortunate time to get a boner.

“Hey,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hi,” I respond awkwardly. I realize this is the first time we’ve spoken since the release party. Since that jerk of a colleague made her feel uncomfortable. Since I autographed my name on her shoulder. I wonder if it’s still there . . .

“Are you okay?” she asks, gesturing to the ground, where the shattered glass keeps me locked like a prisoner under her gaze.

Sighing, I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, just . . . you know, wish I’d put on pants before deciding to go to the kitchen.”

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