Page 3 of If Only In Our Dreams

Now that I was no longer exhausted to the point of incoherency I could admit how fucking weird what I’d just done was.

Even weirder though?The fact he hadn’t pushed me off.

He could’ve been sneaky about it too. Could’ve told me he needed to use the bathroom and then made sure his armrest was down when he came back so I couldn’t snuggle into him a second time. It would’ve been easy to turn me down.

But he hadn’t.

Why hadn’t he?

I got the impression that he wasn’t the kind of guy who voluntarily let strangers cuddle him.

Maybe it was the way he wore his black turtleneck sweater, all prim and tight and proper. Or maybe it was the way he held his head high, back ramrod straight—staring around the plane like he expected the worst to happen and was prepared to face it the moment it did.

I booked it off the plane the moment I could, head down, heart in my throat.

The airport was a small one. It was as close to Belleville as I could get, though I knew from experience there was still a decent drive ahead of me to reach the quaint mountain town where my brother had settled.

Autumn in Vermont was gorgeous. I’d visited a few times since Miles had moved here, and it always hit me like a punch to the face every time I saw it. Passing by the large open windows that faced the tarmac, with my heart in my throat, even the fall leaves couldn’t fully distract me from the man I knew would be exiting the plane after I did.

Silently, I willed the handsome stranger to walk by me.

A myriad of colorful red and orange leaves spread out like paint strokes across the skyline at the edge of the airport. It looked like a Bob Ross painting. Like someone had taken a brush and artfully crafted each tree, one swipe at a time. Our plane sat sentinel in front of the wall of the forest as the rest of the passengers filed off and the crew prepped for the next flight.

My pulse thrummed.

He’s not going to follow you.

He’s not going to get mad at you.

It was just a nap.

Not the end of the world.

Thud, thudwent the footsteps behind me, and I prayed that the stranger wouldn’t stop. That theoneawkward glance we’d shared would be it. That I’d never have to acknowledge just how weird I’d acted again.

My cheeks were hot enough to boil eggs on.

A throat cleared behind me and my shoulders rose even higher, my shame obvious as I took in a steadying breath and swiveled to?—

“Are you “Trashmouth”?” It wasn’t him. My stranger.

Thank god.

“Ah—yeah. That’s me.” I cleared my throat, offering the woman—because it was a woman speaking, not a sexy silver fox—a friendly smile. Beside her, a little boy stood, his dark hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes wide as he stared at me like he wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“Oh mygosh!” the woman gushed, her eyes bright. “We were at your concert last fall.”

I nodded along like I remembered where that concert had been. “Ah. Thanks for coming!”That was a good thing to say, right?

Personable?

Mom had raised us to have manners, but situations like this always made me uneasy. It’d been years, but I still wasn’t used to being recognized out in public like this. At least the paparazzi hadn’t found me here. This was uncomfortable, but not in a bad way.

I’d always loved talking to fans.

It was my favorite part of my job, even if I sucked at it.

Felt like I had to play a game. Like they saw me as something other than a dude who wore too much eyeliner. And because of that, whatever I said was important and needed to beperfect.

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