Page 289 of The First Time
I'm back to attention. "Yeah?"
"What's your favorite book that isn't a graphic novel?"
"You mean a book where all the pages are words?" I ask.
He nods.
"Brave New World." I wink.
He holds my gaze. "Are you mocking me, Miss Wilder?"
"Definitely. I mean, obviously, if I was going to go dystopia, I'd go withThe Hunger Games." I rack my brain for a book I really love, one that will make me sound mildly sophisticated. Nothing comes. "Ghost Worldis my final answer."
He opens the fridge, pulls out a bowl of fruit salad and two forks, and makes a motion that can only meaneat. "You're sticking to your guns. I admire that."
"Thanks." I pick up a fork and stab a berry. The fruit salad is all berries. Blake has been paying attention. "I was writing a graphic novel back in high school. I might finally have time to work on it now."
He moves closer. Three inches away. One hand slides around my waist, pulling up the fabric of my sweater. The other traces the outline of my lips. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He leans closer. Closer. My eyelids press together.
His lips make contact. It's not like any of our other kisses. It's not some big thing for show. It's not a smoldering kiss designed to make my panties wet. It's sweet. Caring even.
That's a lie.
But I'm starting to believe it.
* * *
After an hour of conversation,we dress in separate rooms and take the elevator to the parking garage.
Pretty, made-up Kat stares back at me through the mirrored walls. I'm still not expert with makeup, but I look pretty good. And my dress is beautiful. Elegant. Way too much for a family dinner, really.
I make my way into the limo with careful steps. Blake follows.
The door shuts behind us, locking us into our own little world.
He nods to a bottle of champagne in the ice bucket. "The same one you liked at the party."
"The party where we had our joyful engagement?"
"Don't say things like that."
"Why? We're alone. This is the part that's real. That's what you told me."
He stares at me. "Fine. Get it out of your system now."
If I didn't know better, I'd swear I'd hurt his feelings. "That's okay."
The car starts and pulls out of the parking garage. Once we're on the street, its movements become one comfortable blur. No wonder rich people take these things everywhere. You really do forget you're in transit.
He shifts. We're on different bench seats. They're perpendicular. I have to turn if I really want a good look at Blake.
There's so much to his face. The strong jaw, the sharp line of his nose, the gorgeous blue eyes.
That bit about eyes being the windows to the soul—total bullshit. They're not the windows to Blake's soul. I stare into those eyes and come up with nothing. I don't have a clue what he's thinking or feeling.
If only I could crack that gorgeous head open and pry into his brain. It shouldn't interest me this much. He's closer to a boss than to a boyfriend.
"Penny for your thoughts?" I bite my tongue. That's a terrible line. And it's cheesy as hell.
