Page 8 of This

I lick my lips and look away at nothing across the dining room. This is how it starts—flirtatious conversation, his leg brushing mine under the table, thenboom!—we’re six months deep, and I can’t remember why it ever happened in the first place.

Our waiter appears, and Mr. Willis claps Dane on the back. “We’ll talk shop soon. See what the young blood can offer us.”

“Advice on your backswing,” Dane mutters as he returns to his table.

Liam rests his head in his hands. “Imagine how many rounds we’ll wind up throwing for that man.”

They exchange a grunt for a groan, and we order.

On our way back, Liamdeems my departure cause for celebration. He springs for the most expensive champagne at the gas station. Deep down, he’ll miss me. Eventually.

Keaton downs three glasses and resumes crying because it’s the last time for everything. Last popped cork, last toast, last time I roll my eyes at her for crying over everything being our last time together. Liam starts to counter each one with a first they’ll share, and within a few minutes, she returns to her giggling self.

He’s good for her. She’ll be fine without me.

Eager to check off a few items from the list they just created, they disappear to the bedroom. As soon as Dane and I are alone again, the vibe changes. A pretense falls away. Neither of us mentioned our initial encounter to Liam or Keaton. It seems like an unspoken agreement that neither of us will.

We finish off the champagne while sitting in beanbag chairs—the only option other than the couch. He’s stalking me on social media. Openly since he liked an Instagram post from over a year ago.

“I like you a hell of a lot better in heels than bowling shoes.”

I don’t say anything, not in the mood to relive my two-month tenure on a bowling league. An ex insisted I try. I despised every second but pretended to love hurling a ball as much as the guy, who I found out was banging the girl at the shoe counter for the entirety of our relationship. He chased me into the parking lot, still buckling his belt. I flung my bowling bag and nailed him in the balls.

Dane tosses his phone on the floor, his attention shifting to the physical me rather than the virtual one. He put his beanie back on a little bit ago. It grows on you. “How far is Portland?”

“One thousand two hundred and sixty-eight miles. At least, that’s the number Keaton keeps throwing around.”

He picks up his phone and taps away before dropping it again. “It’s a sixteen-day walk.”

“I should probably drive then.” I carry the empty bottle to the kitchen and rinse out the plastic flutes.

When I come back, Dane has switched directions in his beanbag, so we’ll face opposite ways. I sit down, and our thighs almost touch, the gap between us gone.

“Did you move my bag closer?”

He shushes me. “What are the odds they’re down for the night?”

A hand creeps over to my leg, his skin warm enough that the rest of me feels cold. I remind myself to breathe as his fingers trail up. “She’ll be out here by three to ask me to stay.”

He looks up in thought and nods. “I can work with that.”

He leans in and brushes his lips over my collarbone, sweeping up to my neck. I drag off his beanie, tossing it behind him somewhere. My fingers thread in his too-long-on-top hair. His hand travels higher. I wish it would go back but keep going, wanting to feel him everywhere.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Ask me all the questions,” he says against my skin. “Just let me keep doing this.” His thumb grazes back and forth under the hem of my dress, sending chills every which way.

“Did you delete my number after sending the text?”

He pulls back until his gray eyes meet mine. I’ve already decided the answer really doesn’t matter. It’s trust issues asking, not me. But he nods and gives me one anyway. “It was one of the hardest things I’d ever fucking done.”

“Then why did you?”

His focus falls to my mouth as his hand continues its path, the touch lighter ascending my inner thigh. “I said I would.”

“I deleted your message,” I tell him. “Right after I listened to it.”

“I know. I always knew you would.”

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