Page 61 of Attached At Heart
“And incredibly unserious.”
“So?”
“You’re the most serious person I know, Delaney.”
“No,youare the most serious person you know, Blake.”
I pursed my lips, hating to think that Delaney calling me serious was another way to imply that I was boring to be around. It would be really unfortunate, considering she was the only person I looked forward to seeing every day and basically my only friend.
Maintaining friendships in med school was challenging, especially with people who weren’t in med school. But Delaney was in the trenches with me, so it was different. Some days, it felt like me and her against the world.
Some days, it just felt like me and her.
“Besides, this movie has very important themes.” She sipped her wine. A dry chardonnay. Her favorite. Besides appletinis—although she’d never admit to that. “Like don’t trust strangers or handsome men.”
“Wow.” I slapped a hand to my chest. “Never been called ugly like that before.”
“Stop.” A laugh burst from Delaney’s lips, and I caught myself staring at her mouth for a beat too long. “No, you’re just an anomaly, Blake London.”
“Damn right I am,” I muttered, trying to keep my smile to myself.
Delaney shook her head, tucking her feet beneath her and curling into a tighter ball on the couch beside me. “But actually, do you want to know why I like this movie so much?”
“Naturally, I do.”
“Because I can trust it just like I can trust you.”
My body suddenly felt too small for my heart, science be damned.
“It’s familiar and comforting, you know?” she added. “It’s a reminder of the good parts of home.”
I hoped that maybe she was still talking about me, too.
I’d do just about anything to be Delaney’s home.
Which was why I didn’t mind one bit when she fell asleep on my shoulder about thirty minutes into the movie.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
delaney
THE TRAIN RIDE FROM Amsterdam to the coast of the North Sea, where we were staying, didn’t take long. I spent most of it craning my neck to see the views outside the window, even though my muscles were already sore from sleeping funny on the plane.
My parents traveled abroad a lot while I was growing up but never took me. Not even when they visited Ophelia at her French boarding school with my Aunt Violet and Uncle Tripp when I was fifteen.
I remembered crying that time.
I remembered Bryan asking me what was wrong and not knowing how to tell him our parents weren’t the people he saw them as.
I told him I missed Ophelia instead, and he put on my favorite movie to make me feel better.
“This is us, Lane,” Blake muttered when the train approached its next stop. “Here, give me your suitcase.”
Too tired to protest, I rolled it toward him, and Blake grabbed our bags by the handles to carry them off the train. I watched in awe, trailing after him as he handled them with ease.
I suspected I was going to like traveling with Blake.
An Uber pulled up outside the train station just as we emerged with our luggage, reaffirming that thought. How Blake had timed that so perfectly, I wasn’t sure, but I also wasn’t going to complain.
