Page 45 of Handle with Care
“Road,” I remind him helpfully with a gesture. “There’s nothing fancy about it.”
“Fancy dress isn’t couture, it’s costume. Was there truly a risk you’d be out in furry booties, hot pants, and a crop top?” he asks with incredulity. “I had no idea that was an option.”
“I bet you’re sorry now we’re not going dancing,” I tease him, patting my sensible clothes and then tugging on my shirt under my lightweight anorak.
“I’ll use my imagination.”
“Oh yeah? I’m all ears. Invested, even, in your vision of me.”
His lips quirk. “Now you’re fishing for compliments.”
“Not at all. I’m curious to know what you think of me. Bet you thought, fuck, Dylan’s obnoxious what with the Mr. McLaren nonsense.”
The smile returns, along with a small shake of his head, his gaze fixed on the road. “No.”
“No?”
“What, then?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “First, we need to have a couple of rules for today.”
“Rules? What kind of rules?”
“Yes. Such as… we can say anything we want before midnight without repercussion tomorrow. Like writing in ink that vanishes on the first read.”
“The suspense is killing me. Okay. We can say anything we like to each other, done. Though I’m dying to know what you want to say to me in invisible ink, Will. Call me all ears.”
It could be my imagination, but I think he shivers ever so slightly. I glance at him, and there are real goose bumps on his forearms. The air-conditioning, obviously.
“I like it when you say my name like that,” he says.
“Mm, interesting. I like saying your name.”
Will licks his lips. And I redden ever so slightly, but I don’t take back what I said. Because we have a new midnight rule where we can say anything. And I’m going to test this new rule. We’re quiet for a long moment as we both digest this exchange.
“Also: you’re stalling on the original question.” I give him a meaningful look.
It’s his turn to flush. My eyebrows lift as I gaze at him curiously. He can’t possibly be blushing on account of me.
“The truth, Dylan?—”
Shit. My turn for goose bumps. The way he says my name is dynamite. Top marks. Fucking hot.
“—is that I thought you were gorgeous on first sight. And then I was mortified that I splashed you on the drive to the museum that first day. I’m terribly sorry.”
“No fucking way.” I sit up more fully in my seat, gawping openly at him. “Are you serious? I figured you thought I was annoying as hell. And I’ll take the apology, thanks.” I grin at him, thrilled. “And on second sight? When I dried off?”
“Just as gorgeous.” Color remains in his face.
“Well, well. Little ol’ me.”
“You underestimate your… appeal. How free you are. It’s remarkable.”
“I don’t know that I’m honestly that free or charming?—”
“Take it on good authority—mine—that these are both true.”
I laugh. “Okay. We’ll do this your way, then. Also, I love hearing you confess these thoughts. I’m, uh, well… enjoying it.”
