Page 20 of Beyond the Lines
“I said nothing of the sort! And if you dare, I’ll…” She throws a piece of French toast at me.
I catch it and pop it in my mouth, chewing with a smile while maintaining eye contact. Then we both have another ofthosemoments, the air between us electric with promise. Her eyes darken slightly, but then she breaks into a grin and shakes her head.
“You’re trouble,” she says, but her tone suggests she doesn’t mind the playful banter.
“My middle name.” I wink, then immediately wonder if that was too much.
“Is it, just?”
“Actually, my middle name is Terrance.”
“That’s far less badass than trouble…” She laughs and steals one of my hash browns.
“Thief.” I pull my plate closer protectively.
“How else can artists afford to live?” she declares dramatically.
And just like that, we’re back to easy banter, the warm tension diffused but not forgotten. It’s still there, hummingbeneath the surface, but it’s not overwhelming anymore. It’s just… nice. Comfortable. Like we’ve known each other longer than a few hours.
I could stay here all night.
Iwantto stay here all night.
But when I glance at my watch, I realize it’s already past three in the morning. We’ve been talking for hours, and while I don’t want this to end, I also don’t want to be the reason she’s exhausted tomorrow for the first day of classes. That’d be one way to leave a lasting impression.
“We should probably head back,” I say reluctantly. “It’s getting late, and this place closes soon.”
She checks her phone, and her eyes widen. “Oh wow, I didn’t realize. I’ve actually got breakfast plans in a few hours…”
“Sorry if I’m ruining your beauty sleep,” I smile, then backtrack. “Not that you need it, of course…”
She blushes, then looks up at me, something vulnerable in her expression. Suddenly, I wonder if it has something to do with the flash of pain I saw on her face when I first asked about Europe, but I’m not about to blurt out and ask her that. If she wants to tell me, she’ll do it when she’s ready.
“Thanks, Declan,” she says. “This… was really nice…”
“Yeah,” I agree softly. “It was.”
I signal for the check, and when it comes, we have our first awkward moment of the night arguing over who should pay the bill. I win by pointing out that I’m the one who suggested coming here.
“Fine,” she laughs. “But you only get to pay if you draw me a picture in the margin…”
I grin, then get to work satisfying her demand. I write out how much for the tip and for the total, then do a little doodleof the two of us sitting in the booth, sharing French toast, both smiling.
For a moment, I get lost in the drawing, but when I’m done I look up at her. She’s gone all gooey, smiling across the table at me, and when the waitress comes to take the cash, Lea asks if she can keep the check.
“No problem, honey,” the waitress gives a knowing smile. “Looks like you’ve got a good one…”
The sight of Lea beaming sends my heart to the moon, and after she sticks the drawing in her purse, we beat a hasty retreat from the diner, stifling laughs as we pass Brad and Sarah/Sienna.
Outside, the night air is cool enough to make her shiver slightly in her dress. Without thinking, I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders, a little chilly myself but desperately wanting to keep her warm.
“Such a gentleman,” she teases, but she pulls it closer around herself.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I warn. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
We walk back toward campus in comfortable silence, our shoulders occasionally brushing. Each contact sends a jolt through me, but I resist the urge to take her hand. Something tells me this girl is worth taking slow, worth doing right.
Doing right, eh?My mind mocks me.
