Page 56 of Crocodile Tears
“At family dinner,” I clarified. “Why did you say ‘Dove and I? Never.’” I mocked his voice, unsure why I delivered the line with robot arms, but right now that was the least of my concerns.
“Because you are incredibly stubborn.” He drunkenly waved me up and down. “Case and point.” He shook his head. “And I thought you’d never forgive me for the skink thing. So I said never because I knew you’d never let me in, never give us a chance, well, at least I thought that until you kissed me, and then I thought maybe there was still hope.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, you should’ve been more explicit with that sentiment then. It was very confusing.”
“Dove.”
“Deacon, we can’t do this!” I exclaimed. “I don't think you understand. You do not go for people like me. There’s a reason why celebrities date celebrities. I mean, come on, you date women who need fake IDs to get into bars!”
He winced. “Those were all fake relationships,” he said, holding up a defensive hand. “Not that I’m saying I’ve been a monk or haven’t been playing the field, but yeah, none of the relationships that have been public have been real.”
“Still,” I said, pacing faster, searching for ways to make him understand that he and I were not the same. “I’m older than you!”
He rolled his eyes. “By five months.”
“You date supermodels. With zero cellulite and blindingly white teeth.Andmillions of Instagram followers,” I countered. “I’m not in the same universe as you, let alone league.”
His head reared back. “You thinkI’mtoo good foryou?” he asked in disbelief. “Dove, you have absolutely no idea how incredible you are. Ivy picked on you because she's horribly jealous of the fact that you don't even care that you’re ridiculously gorgeous. You are smart and funny and nerdy andhard-working, and you have an amazing family and job and wit, and you care so much about making a difference in the world.” He held a hand to his chest like it made his heart hurt. “If anything, I am unworthy of you.”
“You don’t really want this, Deacon.” I retreated another step. “You don’t want me.”
“Could you please stop telling me what I want? I know what I want,” he demanded, his face growing more serious as he held my gaze. “I’ve known since I was twelve years old.” I felt tears pricking my eyes, my heart constricting as I tried not to believe him. “Are you saying you don’t have feelings for me?”
“Of course I have feelings for you!” I erupted, unable to deny it any longer. “You were my best friend—funny and smart and creative and daring—and how could kid version of me not develop feelings for kid version of you?” He laughed. “What?”
He shrugged. “I think you’re the only person in the world who wouldn’t have led with rich, famous, and handsome, and that is one of the many, many reasons why I really want to kiss you right now.” He stood, ambling over to me.
"Don't you come over here with that sexy smolder face and your perfectly kissable lips,” I scolded him. “Your looks might be lower down on my priority list of things I like about you, but come on! Youknowyou’re the most gorgeous man in the world, sopleasedon’t test me.”
“What if I want to test you?” He flashed that mischievous smile and my pussy fluttered.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This was the worst kind of torture. Was he this devilishly charming with every model and actress he’d brought back to this apartment after a few too many drinks? I bet I was the only woman ever who didn’t immediately get naked for him even though Idesperatelywanted to.
Why—why!—did I have to be the bigger person right now?
“You are drunk,” I repeated slowly, holding Deacon by the shoulders so he didn't come any closer.
“I really wish I didn’t have any celebratory drinks tonight.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face, and I suddenly felt the pull of sleep surrounding us and the fact it was 2 am, which was insanely late for someone who routinely woke up at 5. “What can I do to make you believe that I'm not just saying this ‘cuz I'm drunk?”
“Okay, how about this?” I proposed, knowing I needed to get both of us to bed and reset whatever sloppy, drunken, melodrama was playing out between us. “If you still want to kiss me in the morning, then you go right ahead, okay?” I offered. “But chances are you won't even remember this conversation.”
“I will remember,” he slurred, suddenly more obviously intoxicated now that he was on his feet. I was pretty sure he was seeing two of me, which only reconfirmed my decision not to take things further.
“Sure you will, big guy.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Let's get you to bed before you crash into something, okay?”
“You could sleep in my bed tonight?” He held up his hands. “Nothing would happen. It would just be nice to have you there.”
Yeah, and have him wake up thinking we’d slept together when he couldn't remember any of this and have to come up with some awkward excuse as to why it was all a big mistake.
“Another night.”
“Okay.” He gently rubbed his knuckles across my cheeks. “I'll hold you to that.”
I smiled. “Tonight was perfect. Really. Thank you.”
“You might be the only person in the world who has the same definition of perfect as me,” he said. Which almost made sense and made my chest constrict with its sweetness.
