I’m actually thinking about saying the last one as a joke. I almost do, except then I realize it’s not very funny considering how true it is.
Before I can say anything, the waiter comes back. Dallas orders a stupid-expensive pinot noir. He knows it’s my favorite wine. I order the curry and he orders fettuccine, and with our menus gone, we have to stop ignoring each other. So it’s either talk about today’s shoot or talk about the fact that he wants to prove he’s still in love with me.
Since my mind can’t wrap around the latter, I say, “I thought you said you weren’t going to try and seduce me.”
He sighs and keeps his eyes trained on me. The waitress comes back with our wine and opens the bottle in front of us. She takes a while, and I’m not sure if Dallas will remember to respond when she leaves. But when she finally does, he takes a sip of wine and says, “I was trying to stay in character. And that’s good, by the way.” He gestures to his glass.
I take a drink. He’s right. Hell, it might be the best pinot noir that I’ve had. Then again, my idea of classy is going to the liquor store in my yoga pants and grabbing a dusty four dollar bottle on the bottom shelf. “You practically ate me out.”
He glances around, but it seems like none of the tables around us care that I’m talking about oral sex like it’s baseball. “You know the passion that Brit was going on about—the chemistry she was trying to get everyone to acknowledge after we were done shooting?” He leans in close and lowers his voice. “I would never, ever be able to feel that with someone else. When you respond—when you really respond to what I’m doing to you in a shoot—that’s what makes a picture.”
“So that’s why you did it?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “To make a good picture?”
“Be real, Evan.” His bright eyes are so intense that breaking away from them should be some sort of crime. “I don’t give a damn about Amora Acquisitions and whatever they’re trying to make of this magazine. And to be honest, the money is nice, but when it comes down to it, it’s worth nothing near the few seconds I get to see the look on your face that lets me know I’m making you feel something.” He relaxes and leans back. “And making Britain happy is an added bonus. I like staying on her good side.”
I down the rest of my glass with a single swallow. It’s a shame that I’m drinking an eighty dollar bottle of wine in the midst of such a stressful conversation. Dallas doesn’t ask, he just pours me another glass.
“Then why was leaving you so easy?” I say. It’s the question that’s been on my mind for too long. If he really cared about me, then he wouldn’t have let me walk out of that airport without a fight.
“Because I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you for months. I didn’t think there was a way to prove myself to you.”
“Prove yourself to me?”
He nods. “I didn’t want to just plead with you to make you stay with me, especially if you were so unhappy, then have there be months of not being able to see you, and possibly not being able to call you. You’d be at Harvard wondering if it was really worth it to give me another chance and there would be no way to show you that I desperately needed one, Evan.”
Everything in his expression begs me. And I can’t tell if I want to give him another chance because he’s so goddamn gorgeous, or because I love him back.
“Okay,” I say.
His face softens. Relief. Suddenly I wonder what it would have been like to kiss him if the kiss had been before the foreplay—if it would have been crushing or sweet. Who would have initiated it? How long would it have lasted? A part of me wants to crawl across the table right now just to feel his warm lips on mine.
When our food comes, we don’t talk much. Part of me is grateful, and the other part of me wants to ask more questions. Like what made him decide if he was going to come to Boston for me. Was it before, or after A.J. offered him all of that money?
My stomach twists into a tight knot at the mere thought of it.
“What?”
I glance at Dallas. His eyes are narrowed.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“What were you thinking about?” he asks. “You looked horrified for a second.”
I scrape my food around with my fork until I realize there is no use lying to him. If this is the time to discover if we’re supposed to be together, I can’t go dancing around real problems.
“Did you decide before or after A.J. offered you the advance that you wanted to come and prove how much you loved me?”
His eyes sparkle with something… amusement, curiosity… I can’t tell for sure. He wipes his mouth and smiles down at his plate.
“What’s so damn funny?”
His blue eyes flicker to mine again and the breath is sucked right out of me. “You sure make it difficult to be a romantic, you know that, right?”
I cock my head, relaying my confusion.
He sighs. “I had the entire evening planned. We were going to break into the Bunker Hill Monument, and at the top I was going to tell you—while pressing you to my rock-hard body like the maiden you are—that A.J. never called me.”
I don’t know whether to giggle or gasp. So instead, I stare at him blankly. “He what?”
“He never called me, Evan. He never offered me any money to come out here. In fact, I called him and begged him to pay for my plane ticket.”
I snap my mouth shut when I realize my jaw is hanging open. My heart is swelling with so much heat and joy and giddiness that it’s a battle just to keep my cool in front of him.
“The evening is ruined,” I say flatly, taking another sip of wine.
He raises his eyebrow at my reaction, and asks slowly, “What do you propose we do?”
I swirl the rest of the wine in my glass. “Well, since I ruined your surprise.” I hold up my glass. “Why don’t we get another one of these and head back to the Manor?”
^^^^
The rain came pouring down.
Somehow we end up back in Boston because Dallas found these amazing cellars on his phone that are open until eleven. Drenched and shivering, we discover the cellar hosts an antipasto bar and there’s live music tonight.
So we get a little drunk. And I end up on his lap.
The music is nothing like I’m used to listening to. It’s a couple of old men playing folk, but they’re really good at it. The crowd is mostly forty-to-sixty somethings looking to have a good time. Dallas and I might even be the youngest ones here.
He holds me tightly around my waist. I crane my neck and lean in, open mouth pressing against his strong, bold jaw, and exhale. Immediately, goose bumps emerge on his neck. He groans at the warmth. Or my mouth. One or the other.
“I think we should head back,” he says.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
The night is freezing, the rain pummeling us, and yet we waste time searching for the train station to take us back instead of paying cab fare. When we arrive at Veda Manor, it’s just past midnight, and the foyer and dining room are empty.
We giggle and trip our way up to Dallas’s room. There’s no way I’m making my lecture tomorrow—thank God I’ve studied well ahead and already know the material.
I peel my jacket off and lay it on the back of one of the leather armchairs. “I’ll have to borrow clothes from Britain tomorrow. That’s going to be one hell of a walk of shame.”
As Dallas grins at me, water drips from the tip of his nose. “Who says that staying the night with me is shameful?”