Page 75 of Lovers Like Us
Farrow increases his sit-up pace. “Not onename?”
He already said he’s taking care of the one-night stand NDAs, and he’s been waiting for lawyers to send him those contracts. I only need to help brainstorm other people. Like a high school rival, a pissed off neighbor, or a scorned collegestudent.
I picture…no one. Notreally.
I did deal with my fair share of harassment in high school. Like the snide comments about my mom, the dick drawings, and accusing me of being a bastard. Some guys hated me because they needed someone to hate. But I can’t see them, years later, wanting medead.
“If they exist,” I tell Farrow, “I don’t know aboutthem.”
His muscles flex on his wayup.
“Janie?” Iask.
She cleans her hands on a towel and shuts her mirror. Blue eyes on me, she offers her complete attention. “You were always sweet to people and well-liked. And very famous. Many people had a crush on you in high school. Even theneighbors.”
Farrow rolls hiseyes.
I give him a look. “Come on, if I’d been around your age growing up, you would’ve had a crush on metoo.”
“And there goes your humility.” On his way up, he twists to the right, near enough to kissme.
Kissme.
His mouth quirks before he leans back down. Such atease.
I lick my lips. “Just stating thetruth.”
Amusement rests behind his eyes. “The truth is that you would’ve ‘wanted’ me to have a crush on you.” He rises. “And you always,alwayswould’ve been infatuated withme.”
“That’s already bullshit since I’ve never been infatuated withyou.”
He lets out a short, dry laugh before his smile expands. “Weren’t you the one who dreamed of me taking your virginity in ashower?”
Iblink.
Yeah.
I feel like he flipped over whatever metaphorical board game we were playing. Chess? Backgammon? CandyLand?
I feign confusion. “Was that you and me? Could’ve been another guy who looks likeyou.”
“No one else looks like me,” he says in that matter-of-fact voice that grips my body. He rises to his knees and twists…away from my face. He’s smiling wide, still teasing the hell out ofme.
It’sworking.
I swelter inside out, and I keep a hand on my ice pack to cooloff.
Jane points her phone at us and snaps a candid photo of me andFarrow.
I tell Janie, “That better be evidence thathelooks more infatuated thanme.”
“Memories.” She examines the photo. “And from what I can see, you share equalinfatuation.”
I gesture to Farrow. “There itis.”
He pushes back his hair, and our eyes caress in a powerfulmoment.
I inhale—and I break eye contact. My phone vibrating on the floor. Jane just texted me the picture. Perks of extra phone security, I now have photos of my boyfriend without fear ofhacks.
