Page 82 of Mostly Loathing You

The lights in the theater dim as a booming baritone fills the air, King George commanding everyone to power down electronic devices. Before the opening number even begins, I feel Liam’s hand seek mine, his long fingers curling around my palm and his thumb making small circles against my skin. A warmth spreads throughout my body as the music swells, but the butterflies taking flight in my stomach are not for the Broadway show.

I feel the familiar thrill of anticipation as the orchestra begins to play. The lights shine brightly on the stage, illuminating a world of make-believe, and I am completely enchanted. No matter how many times I listen to the soundtrack or see this show, it is just as captivating each time.

The moment the show ends, we are ushered outside. The crisp December air bites my cheeks, making them rosier than normal. I shiver involuntarily before I feel Liam drape his suit jacket over my shoulders. This man—this version of him—is foreign to me, not that I’ve never known this version of him, but it’s been a long time. He loops his fingers between mine, squeezing tightly before releasing the pressure.

Strings of twinkling lights decorate every building and lamppost we pass. The ambiance of the season fills me with delight, as it always does, and my joy is only exacerbated when we come upon a man selling hot dogs from a cart outfitted with a heater to keep himself warm. He tosses on gloves and a coat when he sees us approaching, but continues to cook the dogs.

“Two hot dogs, one with mustard and onion, the other with just ketchup,” Liam instructs the man as he pulls out his wallet, the tattered and worn brown leather a stark contrast to the man who seems to always be put together. He hands the vender a twenty-dollar bill, tells him to keep the change, then grabs the foil-wrapped deliciousness before stepping down the sidewalk. He hands me the one with just ketchup and it’s only then that I realize he ordered it with ease.

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?” He unwraps his hot dog and shoves one end in his mouth, yellow mustard coating the edge of his lip in the process.

“Know I only get ketchup on my hot dogs.” I detest mustard; it’s quite possibly the most disgusting condiment to exist…besides mayonnaise.

Liam swallows his bite before wiping the rogue mustard and sucking it off his thumb. His eyes meet mine as a chuckle falls from his lips. “Hannah, you’re hardly a hard person to figure out. You get ketchup on your hot dogs,chicken penne at Andre’s, you hate mayonnaise, love chocolate cake. You hate strawberries, yet you still for some reason always get strawberry ice cream. Make that make sense.” He starts to shove the hot dog back in his mouth, but my slack-jawed expression causes him to pause. “Oh c’mon, I’ve known you our entire lives. You pick up on things.”

True, but not all of what he said ties back to us growing up together. We’ve only been going to Andre’s for like a year, so for him to notice that is…

Well, it’s interesting.

“Okay, stalker.” I laugh as I smack his arm, nearly shoving the hot dog out of his hand.

“Yeah, yeah.” Liam rolls his eyes before wrapping his free arm around my shoulders, tossing the wrapper in a trash can along with the last bite of food.

We finally return to the hotel, the warm lobby a welcome reprieve from the freezing temperature outside. The hotel is only a couple blocks from the theater, but with the December weather, you would think it’s all the way in Brooklyn.

The second we get into our room, I’m tossing my heels into the corner and stripping my dress over my head. I don’t really even think about what I’m doing until my eyes lock on Liam, his gaze fixed on my body with a hungry look. In an attempt to pretend I don’t notice, I continue to strip down, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in my wake. Water starts to stream from the rain head above the clawfoot tub, but I don’t step in right away. Pulling the curtain shut, I walk over to the bathroom door and close it only inches from Liam’s face.

“That was rude.” His unamused voice travels through the door, causing a grin to spread across my lips.

Stepping into the waterfall cascading from the ceiling, Icount to ten but only get to six as a now-naked Liam steps past the fabric barrier separating me from the rest of the bathroom.

“What took you so long?”

“Honest answer?”

“Always.”

“Couldn’t get my belt off.”

A laugh bubbles up from my throat only to be silenced by his lips pressing hungrily against mine. His hands roam my body as the kiss deepens, and one of them finds its way to the back of my neck, entangling itself in the mass of wet strands there. He tugs firmly, making me open my mouth wider for him to explore. His tepid advances quickly shift to urgency as I’m pulled flush to him, his hard length pressed firmly against my navel, causing me to gasp.

We linger in the shower for a while, but I’ll be honest—I’ve never been a fan of shower sex. You would think that the moisture would help, but in my experience it has the opposite effect. Water is an absolutely awful lubricant, so I personally feel that the shower is for starting, not finishing.

“Are you ready to get out?” I whisper faintly as Liam peppers kisses along my jaw. The tender, pruned skin on my fingertips ghosts along his arms as he leans away, taking the intoxicating feeling of his lips against my neck along with him.

“Sure.” He turns the knob on the tub, stopping the water, and within moments I’m wrapped in one towel while I attempt to dry my hair with another. The chilly air has a bite to it, but any thought of it quickly subsides as Liam’s lips ghost over mine. “Go lay down in bed…sans towel.”

I glare at him for a moment, the instinct to argue when he tells me what to do dying on my tongue.

“Okay,” I sigh, dropping my towel to the ground in front of him. A smirk paints my lips as I walk away, the warmth ofLiam’s gaze as I sway my hips with more dramatics than normal causing my stomach to do flips.

I crawl under the silky duvet, allowing myself to sink into the plush pillow. Lingering there for a while, I find my eyelids growing heavier, with no Liam in sight. As I drift off to sleep, I’m bathed in far more warmth than the room provides.

THIRTY-SIX

HANNAH

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