Page 98 of Lovers Like Us
Farrow and the other bodyguards make small talk while I search. Quinn mops up a spill. “She’s into you,” he tells Akara. “I saw her watching you inCleveland.”
“Who?” Oscarasks.
“Macey,” Akara says and puts his baseball hat on backwards. “Jane’s line coordinator. She’scute.”
“But…” Farrow waves himonward.
“She’s tour crew, and I’m a lead in the securityteam.”
“Yeah.” Donnelly nods, smoke billowing out of his nose. “I’ve heard of that romance movie before. It’s onLifetime.”
“Hallmark,” Farrowquips.
Akara gathers all the dice. “Not into thatdrama.”
I suddenly land on my recent dirty text—and my brain flat-lines, short circuits. Sputters and spins. Warning signs flash likedo not passgo.
Stop while you fuckingcan.
Mostly, I feel like I need Farrow’s consent. This is a textabouthim. Us. Fuck. I rub my mouth and my eyeslift.
They’re all staring right atme.
Farrow balances his knee on the peg of a stool. At ease. I was about to askdo you care if I share thisbut I can already tell he doesn’t. Maybe he even remembers the text word-for-word.
Donnelly hunches forward. “High-key anticipatingthis.”
I take a breath, confident. No reservationsleft.
Instead of reading the text to them, I turn slightly. More towards Farrow. And I tell him, “I’m going to fuck you deep and hard until your legs giveout.”
Farrow smiles so fucking wide, and he lifts his brows in a wave likethat just happened, wolfscout.
Yeah.
That just happened. And I can’t believe I’msmiling.
“Damn,” Quinnsays.
“Coulda used some emojis,” Donnellysuggests.
“Fuck,” Oscar says with a breathy whistle. “Was the promise kept,Redford?”
“Jealous?” Farrow asks, but his gaze never leavesme.
22
MAXIMOFF HALE
“Canyou guys hug and make up? Please,” Sulli says with one hand on my shoulder, her other hand onCharlie’s.
We’re in a backroom at the Chicago FanCon. The photo and signing portion went off without a hitch. No power outage. No dislocated shoulder. And now we’re minutes from going onstage for the very first Q&A.
Baskets of sweets, candy, stuffed animals, scrapbooks, and other homemade gifts tower unsteadily on a coffee table. All from fans. Reminding me that people are here for us. They’re counting onus.
And I’m not going to let anyone down thistime.
“We’re okay,” I tellSulli.
