Beautiful Player
Page 116
“I have a question about a rule,” I whispered.
He leaned in conspiratorially, whispering back, “I’m not your dating coach anymore. There are no rules, besides that no other guy touches you.”
“Still. You know about these things.”
With a smile he murmured, “Fine. Hit me.”
“We’ve only been together two months, and—”
“Four,” he corrected, always insisting I was his from that very first run.
“Fine. Have it your way, four. Is it bad form after only four months to tell you I think you’re my forever?”
His smile straightened, his eyes moving over my face in that way that felt like a caress. He kissed me once, and then again.
“I would say that’s incredibly good form.” He pulled back to look at me for a long, heavy beat. “Sleep, Plum.”My phone buzzed on my lap, startling me awake. I straightened from where I’d been asleep on Will’s shoulder and blinked, looking down at my phone, where a text from him lit up my screen. Beside me, I could almost feel his smile.
I read the text: What are you wearing?
I squinted sleepily at my phone as I typed, A skirt and no panties. But don’t get any ideas, I’m a little sore from what my boyfriend did last night.
He made a sympathetic clucking noise beside me. That brute.
Why are you texting me?
He shook his head next to me, sighing with exaggerated weariness. Because I can. Because modern technology is amazing. Because we are 30,000 feet in the air and civilization has progressed to the point I can beam a filthy proposition to you from a satellite in space to a flying “steel tube.”
I turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You woke me up to ask me what I’m wearing?”
He shook his head, and kept typing. In my lap, my phone buzzed.
I love you.
“I love you, too,” I said. “I’m right here, you nerd. I’m not texting a reply.”
He smiled, but kept typing. You’re my forever, too.
I stared down at my phone, my chest suddenly so tight it was hard to breathe. I reached over my head, adjusting the airflow of the nozzle aimed at my seat.
And I might propose to you soon.
I stared at my phone, reading this line again, and again.
“Okay,” I whispered.
So give me a heads-up if you won’t say yes, because I’m mildly terrified.
I leaned back on his shoulder and he dropped his phone into his lap, wrapping his shaking hand around mine.
“Don’t be,” I whispered. “We’ve totally got this.”
He leaned in conspiratorially, whispering back, “I’m not your dating coach anymore. There are no rules, besides that no other guy touches you.”
“Still. You know about these things.”
With a smile he murmured, “Fine. Hit me.”
“We’ve only been together two months, and—”
“Four,” he corrected, always insisting I was his from that very first run.
“Fine. Have it your way, four. Is it bad form after only four months to tell you I think you’re my forever?”
His smile straightened, his eyes moving over my face in that way that felt like a caress. He kissed me once, and then again.
“I would say that’s incredibly good form.” He pulled back to look at me for a long, heavy beat. “Sleep, Plum.”My phone buzzed on my lap, startling me awake. I straightened from where I’d been asleep on Will’s shoulder and blinked, looking down at my phone, where a text from him lit up my screen. Beside me, I could almost feel his smile.
I read the text: What are you wearing?
I squinted sleepily at my phone as I typed, A skirt and no panties. But don’t get any ideas, I’m a little sore from what my boyfriend did last night.
He made a sympathetic clucking noise beside me. That brute.
Why are you texting me?
He shook his head next to me, sighing with exaggerated weariness. Because I can. Because modern technology is amazing. Because we are 30,000 feet in the air and civilization has progressed to the point I can beam a filthy proposition to you from a satellite in space to a flying “steel tube.”
I turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You woke me up to ask me what I’m wearing?”
He shook his head, and kept typing. In my lap, my phone buzzed.
I love you.
“I love you, too,” I said. “I’m right here, you nerd. I’m not texting a reply.”
He smiled, but kept typing. You’re my forever, too.
I stared down at my phone, my chest suddenly so tight it was hard to breathe. I reached over my head, adjusting the airflow of the nozzle aimed at my seat.
And I might propose to you soon.
I stared at my phone, reading this line again, and again.
“Okay,” I whispered.
So give me a heads-up if you won’t say yes, because I’m mildly terrified.
I leaned back on his shoulder and he dropped his phone into his lap, wrapping his shaking hand around mine.
“Don’t be,” I whispered. “We’ve totally got this.”
