Page 18 of The History Between Us

“Me, of course,” I drawl with a smirk.

Whit looks thoroughly unamused, yet the questions keep coming. “What happened?”

“I brought over some shots, and after a few rounds, I asked him to dance.”

Brows furrowed behind his glasses, Whit glances up from screwing in one of the wood shelves. “And he just…agreed?”

I nod, finishing off the rest of the beer. “At first, I thought he was going to shut me down. He definitely gave it a second thought, but in the end, yeah, he agreed.”

Whit downs the rest of his beverage too. “This is… Wow.”

Standing up off the couch, I swipe my empty beer bottle off the table. “Want another?”

“Sure.”

“What the fuck is with all of these toy planes all over your dining room table?” I call out to him as I toss the empty bottlesinto the garbage can before opening the fridge.

“They are nottoyplanes,” he responds as I stroll back into the living room, handing him a fresh beer. “They’re model planes.”

“What is the difference?”

“A toy is for fun,” he offers, gaze focused on the task at hand. “These are not for fun. They’re for display.”

“Uh, okay. But why do you have so many of them? Your table is covered.”

“Yeah, there’s more on the floor behind the table too.” Pausing what he’s doing, Whit brushes the hair back from his forehead with his arm as he glances over at me. “I enjoy building them. It’s a nice way to fill my free time, and I like how they look when I’m finished.”

This is so fucking random.“Okay, but why planes?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. When I was a kid, my dad would build them from time to time, and eventually, he let me help him. I guess it stuck.”

“How did I not know this about you?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t advertise my hobbies on my forehead, and it’s never come up? I don’t ask you about your hobbies.”

“Yeah, but you know mine. Rodeo.”

“Why are you asking me so many questions? We’re here to talk about you and your smutty affair.” Whit mutters, cracking open his beer and taking a sip. “Did you guys go back to his place? Back to your hotel?”

Shaking my head, I say, “Neither. He took me to some apartment above the bar.”

“This is wild.”

“Wanna know the most fucked-up part?”

“I’m kind of scared to ask,” Whit mumbles, making mechuckle. “But yes, tell me.”

“The entire night after we went up to the apartment is so hazy, I barely remember most of it. The next morning, when I woke up in my hotel room, I had to think for a good, long second about what happened the night before.”

“Is it possible nothing happened, then?”

I shake my head. “Nah, we hooked up. I didn’t fully black out, that much I do remember. And as more time has passed, little bits of the night have come back to me. It’s just…I don’t know how to explain it. A foggy type of memory, I guess. Like I remember things we did, but I don’t necessarily remember what we said during or how we got there.”

Whit sits with that for a moment. “Do you think he remembers?”

“Oh, a hundred percent. I knew he remembered from the moment I laid eyes on him when I found out he was back in town.”

“Which was when?”

---