Page 36 of Love.V2
Dylan took a sip, looking at me with eyes too knowing to be comfortable. “I need to think about it. I’m tired of…I don’t know. Sitting around and being miserable and missing you and then only breaking any of that up with work.”
His words cut too close, booming and echoing in my head.
“Yeah.” My unsteady hand made the margarita ice swirl. “I know what you mean.”
Another pause settled over the table, more comfortable this time. More like the quiet moments we used to have in our ratty old apartment, sitting around on a Saturday afternoon reading and painting.
“So, we do something we’ve always wanted to do, and then report back?”
“Yes.” Dylan nodded. “We can grow the list, too. Maybe add things to it and keep checking back in with each other. Weekly?”
I liked the idea of having an excuse to see Dylan every week, just as much as I liked having someone to hold me accountable to do something other than sitting around my apartment. “This is a good idea, Morris.”
“I think so, Livingston.”
Our glasses clinked, the smoke and burn from the mezcal blending with the sweet feeling of anticipation swirling in my stomach. It didn’t feel like earlier today, the buzzing expectation of being with him again. The weird déjà vu nerves of a first date.
No, this felt more like…the start of something.
“I’ve always wanted to join a club,” I blurted, my mind still cycling through all the things that had appealed to me in my thirty years on this earth. There were bigger ones, scarier ones, but I wasn’t quite ready to say those out loud yet.
“A club?” Dylan sounded surprised. It surprised me to say it out loud. Introvert artists weren’t known for voluntarily meeting other people on a regular, pre-determined basis. My shoulders bounced in a self-conscious shrug.
“You always loved your fraternity. I’m jealous of your friendships with Mac and Adam.” I traced a water ring on the table with my thumb. “I’ve always thought maybe it would be fun to do something like that.”
Dylan was silent for a beat too long, and I glanced at him, not sure what to expect.
Interest, raw and unfiltered. He set down his glass, leaning onto his forearms. “Theresa Lynn. I have so many questions.”
A warm heat radiated from my chest at his comment, at how he was looking at me like I was the only person in the room.
I knew what he meant. Because I had questions, too. About him and me, what I wanted. What we wanted together. And I wanted to ask them all.
Chapter 10
Tess
“—interested in what Tess has to say. She’s the one who called this meeting, after all.”
Even lost as I was in my haze of happiness, I didn’t miss the snark in Victoria’s voice. My eyes flickered to Dylan as heat rose in my face, but I forced my attention back to my computer. We’d both agreed to keep our relationship quiet around the office for now. It felt too new, too fragile, potentially complicating things when Eric announced Dylan was next in line to be CEO.
So far this morning, we’d kept things very cordial. Until he’d shared a document with me two minutes ago simply titled, “List.”
The first bullet we’d written on our date was already in place:
1. Do something you’ve always wanted to do.
I’d stared at his blinking green cursor on the shared document for several seconds before it moved, watching in real-time as he wrote.
2. ??? (Your turn, Angel.)
Of course, that was the exact moment Victoria decided to relinquish her hold on my brainstorm and make it seem like I was the one who wasn’t doing my job. Maybe she had some kind of radar that went off if anyone in her vicinity was happy, and she was duty-bound to her demon overlords to put an end to it immediately.
The second the thought crossed my mind, I blushed even harder. It was unkind and probably undeserved. Victoria was annoying, but she was passionate. Even if it seemed intrusive or aggressive, I couldn’t fault her for working so hard for the company she obviously loved.
“Sorry, I was lost in some notes.” I clicked out of the shared document, eyeing the whiteboard Victoria had been scribbling on for the last twenty minutes. There were a few ideas written, but nothing cohesive. I hadn’t missed much.
“We’re getting nowhere with this. Let’s go with my idea. It’s the strongest and most marketable. Steel. Classic metallics. It makes a powerful statement,” Victoria pushed, circling (again) the central word on the board. Her long, sleek ponytail swished across her perfectly crisp, tailored shirt.
