Page 72 of Only With You

“Tell me what?”

“Jesus,” Landon mumbles, scrubbing his chin, and lets go of my wrist. “I asked them if I could stay here, because”—he pauses, eyes dropping to the floor like he’s considering his next words—“large crowds and loud music overstimulate me sometimes. But I’ll leave, seeing that they didn’t tell you I was staying the night.”

Landon just willingly opened up to me and sounded hesitant like wasn’t sure he should have. To some it may not be a big deal, but this is Landon I’m talking about. He’s always so closed off, so reserved, but always so sure of himself.

Right now, he just looks so vulnerable.

“No, it’s okay, stay.” I sidestep him, adding some distance between us, because the air around us feels a little galvanic. “I just have some conditions.”

I spin on my heel and find him looking at me, relieved.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” A ghost of a smile makes itself present, catching me off guard. I’m stunned, absorbing it, because his smiles are usually gone before I can even blink. But this one still remains.

Pulling myself out of the weird trance, I fold my arms over my chest. I don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to my legs, but it’s brief before they’re back on my own.

He arches a brow. “Well?”

“No arguing. I’m not in the mood to fight tonight.”

“Deal.”

“I like to listen to music at night. Preferably my Haptic, so I don’t want to hear you make any comments about him.”

He stares at me for a long beat, tongue poking his cheek. “Deal.”

I muse over my next condition, but the intensity of his stare unnerves me.

Swallowing hard, I try to think of something else, but nothing comes to mind.

“Anything else, Julianna?”

I exhale a breath, hating yet loving how my name rolls off his lips. “That’s all.”

Ceaseless flutters erupt in my stomach, sending the strangest shudder to disperse down my spine.

“Okay,” he softly replies.

“Okay.”

21

LANDON

I’m frustrated,ruminating whether I should book a hotel room tonight.

Julianna has been in her room for about ten minutes, but even though she’s not physically standing in front of me, I can still smell the scent of her perfume.

It bides in the air, making me feel like I’m stuck in a bubble of whatever she had on. The worst part about it is that I don’t hate it. In fact, I like it so much, I want her to come back out just so the scent remains.

There are so many things wrong with that thought.

This is laughable. Not too long ago, I wanted to be as far away from her as possible, but now, I’m wishing she’d come out, even for a minute.

I should leave. Being here is a mistake.

Having my mind made up, I stand but stop myself from grabbing my stuff from the coffee table when her door opens.

“Hey, are you awake?” she quietly asks as she softly pads into the living room.

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