Page 195 of Lovers Like Us
“For their trivia nights.” I pop open the website. We’ve been trying to pick a place for late-night dessert. A semi-date.
I get that we’re not publicly a couple, but we can still eat out together since he’s my bodyguard. PDA is just completely off the table, and no eye-fucking.Obviously.
The restrictions don’t bother me, but I sometimes imagine what a full-date would be like. Twice as much paparazzi, nodoubt.
“Fuck,” Farrow mutters and opens a couple drawers. Overturning pockets of somepants.
“What are you missing?” Iask.
“My wallet.” Realization washes over his face. “I left it in yourbedroom.”
“I can just pay for you, man,” I offer, but I already know hisresponse.
“No. We’ll split.” He attaches his radio to his waistband, not worrying about putting on ashirt.
I get it. Occasionally, we both like paying for the other. It feels good. Knowing we’re dating. We’re together. But I’ve stopped him from buying my breakfast and dinnerbefore.
Likewise, Farrow doesn’t like being financially dependent on anyone buthimself.
“So Saturn Bridges?” I ask. “I can make areservation.”
Farrow smiles, his hand on the doorknob, and he lingers, our eyes locked.Don’t fucking leave.“Yeah,” he sayshuskily.
Stay.
I almost edgenear.
He rubs his mouth, his chest rising. “I’ll be rightback.”
45
FARROW KEENE
“Watch it, you little bastard.”I snatch Walrus before the calico kitten darts into security’s townhouse, and I kick the door shut. He meows and paws mycheek.
The corners of my mouth rise, but not because of this cat. I keep remembering Maximoff and me together only moments ago. Hell, I can’t stop replaying each minuscule part: the wolfish noises he made, his daggered eyes, the purest vulnerability, the overpowering feelings. Fuck, I’m kicking myself for leaving shit in his room. Because I just want to be withhim.
Let’s make thisfast.
I drop Walrus, and he leaps towards the kitchen. While I head to the old staircase, I spot Jane on the Victorian loveseat. Snuggled in a fuzzy pink blanket, she watches10 Things I Hate About Youalone.
This wouldn’t be unusual, but she invited Nate over tonight for a movie and sex. I saw the guy earlier in passing. He looks like a young, lightweight Scott Eastwood. Tall, preppy-styled brown hair, wide-jawed. A black blazer and gray button-down hugged his skinnybuild.
“Where’s Nate?” I fix my earpiece, the cord cold on my bare shoulder and back, running to the radio on mywaistband.
Jane scratches Licorice behind the ear. “He’s using thebathroom.”
I nod, not about to linger long. I ascend the creakingstairs.
Jane has a little bit more freedom with a friends-with-benefits than she would with a one-night stand. See, Nate has been vetted multiple times and been in this townhouse even more. It’d be extreme overkill to keep putting a bodyguard “chaperone” onhim.
And Thatcher is back at security’s townhouse, safe from overhearing his client having sex. Not that I really care about what Thatcher hears and doesn’t hear. We’re not all meant to be “besties” and that’s more than okay withme.
I don’t want a thousand best friends, and fuck, I don’t even wantonebest friend. I want my tireless, headstrong boyfriend and some reliable people I can hang with onoccasion.
That’s all Ineed.
Halfway up the narrow staircase, I reach the second-floor landing. And I pause. My gut says,look.I turn my head, the bathroom door inview.
