Page 73 of Dallas

I’m a possessive, wild creature. Rabid, as I’ve always known. So, this doesn’t really surprise me. Because I was always like that with him. I wanted everyone to know that he was mine. That maybe he was nice to them, but he would never really be theirs. Not in the way that he belongs to me.

I guess I still cling to pieces of that. At least where he’s concerned.

I get my clothes on, and I find my dress laughably demure in the face of everything we’ve just done, and then I slip into the truck, buckling before Dallas gets in. He’sfrowning at his phone. He grimaces, sending a text before getting into the driver’s side.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh, my dad was wondering if I could help with something over at my aunt Jamie’s ranch. They’re all going to do something with some of the horses there. But I need to pick you up. My mom said that she could do it…”

“That’s okay,” I say.

I’m trying to weigh whether or not that’s going to be embarrassing. She does know, after all, she must, considering we got caught on the camera last night. But there’s also something I want to talk to her about, and that would be a good time. An organic time.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say.

I’ve been staying with him for a minute now, and we’ve had a few dinners with his family. His stepmom is really nice. A quick drive back from the store with her will be totally fine.

“All right,” he says. “I’ll arrange it.”

When he pulls up to the curb, I almost get out immediately, but he grabs my arm and pulls me in for a kiss. I’m dizzy by the time we part. “Wait there,” he says.

He gets out of the truck, and rounds to my side, opening the door for me. I have that same feeling that I’ve had a few times since he came back into my life. Part of me wants him to stop. Because if we’re ever separated again, if ever we’re not like this, I’m going to miss it. I would almost rather not know how nice someone can treat you. I would almost rather not know that things could be like this.

It’s weird and sad, I grant, but I’m a little bit weird and sad.

But right now, I don’t have the capacity to tell them tostop. I just want to enjoy it. For a little bit, I want to enjoy feeling like I’m special to somebody. In every way.

He puts his hand on my lower back and walks me across the street to the store. “I’ll see you around dinnertime,” he says.

I nod. “Okay.”

Then I open up the door and step into the store. The air conditioning is welcome, as is Allison, who is standing behind the jewelry counter looking at me. “So, you two made up.”

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah.”

“I take it he was jealous.”

I smile, slow and wide. “Yeah,” I say.

I have a friend. That makes me giddy. I have a friend and I can tell her about this.

“I had sex with him,” I say. Then I realize that sounds weird. And I’m not sure people say it like that. “I hooked up with him?” I frowned, trying that instead.

“Oh,” she says.

“The Hobbit and chill?”

“Well, that’s… Nice.”

“I think it was nice. It was… I wouldn’t call it nice, actually,” I say. “It was more intense than that.”

“In my experience, sex is…” She scrunches her face up. “I don’t know. Fine?” She shakes her head. “I prefer the romance part.”

I’m suddenly intrigued, because clearly she has more experience in this than I do. Well, most people do.

“There hasn’t really been any romance.” But then I think about him wrapping me up like a burrito, and feeding me dinner. Putting on a movie that I love. Bringing me to bed with him. All of that felt pretty romantic. Oh God. Idon’t love that. It scares me. I don’t think I want romance with him.

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