Page 49 of You're The One
It’s okay to be cautious. To take this slow.
I’m not here to repeat old patterns. I want something new. Real.
That’s all it is.
Yeah. That’s it.
By the time we get back to the mansion to drop her off, it’s well past midnight, and the house is still and quiet.
We say goodnight in the foyer, and she leaves me with a kiss on the cheek.
My stomach growls loud enough to remind me it’s been way too many hours since I last ate. I’m not sure I’ll survive the two-minute drive to my villa without something in my system.
“I’m just gonna grab a granola bar or something from the kitchen,” I tell the cameraman. “I’ll be right out, man.”
He nods and slips out the front door, closing it softly behind him so he doesn’t wake the house full of sleeping women.
SEVENTEEN
My spoonful of Ben& Jerry’s Marshmallow Sky freezes mid-air as heavy footsteps echo down the hall leading to the kitchen. The crew left a few hours ago, and as far as I know, the girls are all asleep. Dominic rounds the corner, heading straight for the pantry without registering my presence, like a man on a mission.
“Good date?” I ask, then lick the spoon clean.
He does a weird jump-spin that makes me laugh. He clearly wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up for a midnight snack. “Shit, I didn’t see you there.”
Crossing the room, he leans against the cabinets opposite where I’m perched on the island counter. “Got anything good?” He nods toward my stash. “Is that popcorn?”
Before I can answer, he reaches over and steals a handful from the bowl near my hip.
“It’s the best combo,” I say, eating a few kernels. “Salty and sweet.” I scoop another bite of ice cream.
He grabs more popcorn, cramming a handful in like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Kind of like us. You’re salty, and I’m sweet.” He tries and fails to hold back his grin.
I roll my eyes. “Hungry?”
“You have no idea. Did you know we’re not allowed to eat on dates? Never mind—don’t get me started. Can I get some of that?” He takes the pint before I can answer, loading his spoon with way more ice cream than any normal person should eat in one go. Pretty much asking for brain freeze.
“Hey, don’t use my spoon!”
He pauses with the bite inches from his mouth. “Why not?”
“I don’t want your germs.”
“Oh, c’mon.”
“And Emma’s germs. There’s way too much spit-swapping around here for my comfort.”
He shoves the ice cream into his mouth anyway, talking around it. “There’s a whole lot less than you think. We didn’t kiss. Unless you’re worried about what I picked up from kissing her cheek?”
His eyes flick to the doorway, then back to me. To the pint he’s still holding. Then back to me again. “I asked to kiss her,” he confesses. Like he owes me some kind of explanation.
“Oh—”
“I regretted it almost immediately,” he cuts in. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I should want to kiss her. I like her.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is me.
“That’s great. I like Emma.”
His gaze jumps to mine, brows pulling together. “You do?”
