Only Him
Page 13
“Good.” He laughed a little. “Your face when you thought I might be trying to take you up to a hotel room was priceless.”
“I bet. Are you even staying here?”
“Yes. It’s a nice place.”
“So when did you decide to do all this?”
“Today. Your story about missing the prom kinda got to me. I felt bad.”
“So this is a pity date? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Totally.” He grinned at me, and suddenly I knew how he’d felt the night he hadn’t wanted to say goodbye.
I didn’t want to do it tonight.
But you will, said a voice in my head. You have to. This isn’t real, Maren—it’s pretend. Maybe it’s not a pity date, but he did all this to be nice, not because he still has feelings for you. You don’t really have feelings for him, either. You’re just remembering what it was like when you did. And it’s making you feel lonely. But he lives in Portland, you live here, and you’re most likely never going to see each other again. So feel your feels, get your closure, and go home before you do something stupid. You’re strong, but you’re not invincible.
A moment later, Jason returned with Dallas’s credit card, waited while he signed the check, and told us there was no rush to leave. When he’d gone, I sat back in my chair and sighed, looking out over the city lights. “Dallas, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you for a wonderful night.”
He looked surprised. “Do you have a curfew or something?”
“No.”
“Good, because we haven’t even danced yet.”
I laughed. “You want to dance with me?”
“Of course I do. It’s the prom, isn’t it? Grab my phone in my inside jacket pocket.”
I reached into the pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to him. He searched for something, tapped the screen, and set it on the table. A song began to play, and I gasped. It was “Hey There Delilah,” a song I’d loved back then.
“You remembered,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat.
Dallas pushed his chair back, came around to my side of the table, and held out his hand. I took it and stood up, letting the jacket fall from my shoulders. He led me away from the table and slightly closer to the edge of the roof with a full view of the city beneath us. Without a word, he took me in his arms, and it was like home. Warm, safe, solid, familiar. I laid my head on his shoulder and pressed my body close to his. We swayed slowly, much slower than the tempo of the song, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be out of time with the rest of the world, I wanted us to be in a place where past, present, future didn’t exist. There was only us, here in this place, holding on to each other as if we’d never been apart. As if we’d never let go.
The lump in my throat grew bigger, and I tried hard to hold back the tears. I breathed in and out, attempting to center myself in the moment and simply be grateful for it. But the scent of his skin only made me want the impossible even more. Eventually, a tear fell. And then another. I sniffled.
Dallas stopped moving and leaned back from the waist. “Hey, you. I told you, there’s no crying at this prom.”
I laughed and let go of him to wipe my eyes, hoping my mascara hadn’t run. “Sorry. I guess this trip down memory lane has me a little emotional.”
“It’s this song. It’s sappy as fuck.”
I poked him on the chest. “Stop it. I still like this song.”
“I know, but it’s making you sad, and I want to remember you smiling tonight. Let’s do something else. Something fun.”
“Like what?”
His eyes lit up in the dark. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What is it?” I asked suspiciously. Dallas’s ideas could be trouble.
“You’ll see.” He let go of my waist and took my hand, trying to pull me toward the door. “Come on.”
“Dallas, my bag!” I cried, laughing as I tried to dig in my heels. “And your jacket and phone.”
He hurried to the table, grabbed everything, and bolted for the door again.
“Is this idea of yours even legal?” I asked, trying not to break an ankle hurrying down the stairs in my heels.
“That’s debatable. But it doesn’t matter, because we’re not going to get caught.”
I groaned. “You always said that.”
“And we never did.”
He was mostly right. As a couple, we’d been lucky—our parents had never walked in on us, a cop had never knocked on the window of his car, the condom had never broken.
“Okay, we never did, but you did,” I reminded him. “Half the time, I used to think you wanted to get caught, you were so blatant about breaking rules.” We exited the stairwell and headed for the elevators. Dallas kept my hand in his.
“That’s because I believed that it was more fun to get away with something if everyone knew it was you. Why pull a prank in secret? And I didn’t care about the punishment. It was always worth it.” He hit the button and turned to face me. “Except the last time.”
I sighed. “Just don’t get me arrested tonight, please.”
“Relax,” he said as the doors opened.
“Have you ever been arrested?” I asked as we stepped into the empty elevator.
He hesitated. “Once.”
“For what?”
“I got into a fight with an off-duty cop who was being a real dick to his girlfriend at a bar.” He shook his head. “That night did not end well for me.”
“I can only imagine.”
“But I promise, you will not end up in handcuffs tonight.” He grinned delightedly and leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “Unless, of course, you’d enjoy that.”
Heat bloomed at the center of my body and spread to my extremities like a nuclear blast. “Pretty sure that would violate the look-but-don’t-touch policy.”
He straightened up. “Oh yeah, that. I promised to behave tonight, didn’t I?”
“You did.” But I gave him a wicked smile.
“Well, then.” He checked his wristwatch. “Good thing it will be tomorrow soon. Is it true what they say about a prom dress at midnight?”
I laughed as the doors opened. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
“Dallas, this is crazy!” I whispered as we ran across the lawn of the huge house on Lake St. Clair where he’d grown up.
“Shh! Don’t talk until we get to the water,” he whispered back.
I struggled to keep up with him, although at least I’d ditched my heels in the car after he’d warned me there might be running involved with his idea. He’d left his jacket and dress shirt in the car and wore only a white T-shirt with his jeans. He was barefoot, too. The moon shone down on us like a spotlight, and I tried not to think about the signs we’d seen saying PRIVATE PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING.
“Who lives here now?” I asked as we neared the seawall.
“No idea.” He pulled me over to where a dock jutted into the water. A small Boston Whaler bobbed in the water next to it, as well as a wooden dinghy, two oars lying on the bottom. “Holy shit, this is perfect.”
I stopped when he tried to lead me onto the dock. “Dallas, no! We are not stealing a dinghy,” I whispered. “You said we were just going to go night-swimming at your old house like we used to!”
“We’re not stealing a dinghy—we’re borrowing it.” He looked up at the massive house, which sat back about two hundred feet from the water. “And the house is totally dark. I bet the owners are out of town.”
I glanced back at the house, too. It did look pretty deserted, but still … could we really take a boat that didn’t belong to us for a spin?
“Come on.” Dallas tugged on my hand. “Live a little. When’s the last time you misbehaved, goody two shoes?”
“I can’t remember,” I shot back. “But it was probably with you.”
He moved closer, so close I felt his breath on my lips. “Then come on. Be bad with me one last time.”
“I bet. Are you even staying here?”
“Yes. It’s a nice place.”
“So when did you decide to do all this?”
“Today. Your story about missing the prom kinda got to me. I felt bad.”
“So this is a pity date? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Totally.” He grinned at me, and suddenly I knew how he’d felt the night he hadn’t wanted to say goodbye.
I didn’t want to do it tonight.
But you will, said a voice in my head. You have to. This isn’t real, Maren—it’s pretend. Maybe it’s not a pity date, but he did all this to be nice, not because he still has feelings for you. You don’t really have feelings for him, either. You’re just remembering what it was like when you did. And it’s making you feel lonely. But he lives in Portland, you live here, and you’re most likely never going to see each other again. So feel your feels, get your closure, and go home before you do something stupid. You’re strong, but you’re not invincible.
A moment later, Jason returned with Dallas’s credit card, waited while he signed the check, and told us there was no rush to leave. When he’d gone, I sat back in my chair and sighed, looking out over the city lights. “Dallas, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you for a wonderful night.”
He looked surprised. “Do you have a curfew or something?”
“No.”
“Good, because we haven’t even danced yet.”
I laughed. “You want to dance with me?”
“Of course I do. It’s the prom, isn’t it? Grab my phone in my inside jacket pocket.”
I reached into the pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to him. He searched for something, tapped the screen, and set it on the table. A song began to play, and I gasped. It was “Hey There Delilah,” a song I’d loved back then.
“You remembered,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat.
Dallas pushed his chair back, came around to my side of the table, and held out his hand. I took it and stood up, letting the jacket fall from my shoulders. He led me away from the table and slightly closer to the edge of the roof with a full view of the city beneath us. Without a word, he took me in his arms, and it was like home. Warm, safe, solid, familiar. I laid my head on his shoulder and pressed my body close to his. We swayed slowly, much slower than the tempo of the song, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be out of time with the rest of the world, I wanted us to be in a place where past, present, future didn’t exist. There was only us, here in this place, holding on to each other as if we’d never been apart. As if we’d never let go.
The lump in my throat grew bigger, and I tried hard to hold back the tears. I breathed in and out, attempting to center myself in the moment and simply be grateful for it. But the scent of his skin only made me want the impossible even more. Eventually, a tear fell. And then another. I sniffled.
Dallas stopped moving and leaned back from the waist. “Hey, you. I told you, there’s no crying at this prom.”
I laughed and let go of him to wipe my eyes, hoping my mascara hadn’t run. “Sorry. I guess this trip down memory lane has me a little emotional.”
“It’s this song. It’s sappy as fuck.”
I poked him on the chest. “Stop it. I still like this song.”
“I know, but it’s making you sad, and I want to remember you smiling tonight. Let’s do something else. Something fun.”
“Like what?”
His eyes lit up in the dark. “I’ve got an idea.”
“What is it?” I asked suspiciously. Dallas’s ideas could be trouble.
“You’ll see.” He let go of my waist and took my hand, trying to pull me toward the door. “Come on.”
“Dallas, my bag!” I cried, laughing as I tried to dig in my heels. “And your jacket and phone.”
He hurried to the table, grabbed everything, and bolted for the door again.
“Is this idea of yours even legal?” I asked, trying not to break an ankle hurrying down the stairs in my heels.
“That’s debatable. But it doesn’t matter, because we’re not going to get caught.”
I groaned. “You always said that.”
“And we never did.”
He was mostly right. As a couple, we’d been lucky—our parents had never walked in on us, a cop had never knocked on the window of his car, the condom had never broken.
“Okay, we never did, but you did,” I reminded him. “Half the time, I used to think you wanted to get caught, you were so blatant about breaking rules.” We exited the stairwell and headed for the elevators. Dallas kept my hand in his.
“That’s because I believed that it was more fun to get away with something if everyone knew it was you. Why pull a prank in secret? And I didn’t care about the punishment. It was always worth it.” He hit the button and turned to face me. “Except the last time.”
I sighed. “Just don’t get me arrested tonight, please.”
“Relax,” he said as the doors opened.
“Have you ever been arrested?” I asked as we stepped into the empty elevator.
He hesitated. “Once.”
“For what?”
“I got into a fight with an off-duty cop who was being a real dick to his girlfriend at a bar.” He shook his head. “That night did not end well for me.”
“I can only imagine.”
“But I promise, you will not end up in handcuffs tonight.” He grinned delightedly and leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “Unless, of course, you’d enjoy that.”
Heat bloomed at the center of my body and spread to my extremities like a nuclear blast. “Pretty sure that would violate the look-but-don’t-touch policy.”
He straightened up. “Oh yeah, that. I promised to behave tonight, didn’t I?”
“You did.” But I gave him a wicked smile.
“Well, then.” He checked his wristwatch. “Good thing it will be tomorrow soon. Is it true what they say about a prom dress at midnight?”
I laughed as the doors opened. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
“Dallas, this is crazy!” I whispered as we ran across the lawn of the huge house on Lake St. Clair where he’d grown up.
“Shh! Don’t talk until we get to the water,” he whispered back.
I struggled to keep up with him, although at least I’d ditched my heels in the car after he’d warned me there might be running involved with his idea. He’d left his jacket and dress shirt in the car and wore only a white T-shirt with his jeans. He was barefoot, too. The moon shone down on us like a spotlight, and I tried not to think about the signs we’d seen saying PRIVATE PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING.
“Who lives here now?” I asked as we neared the seawall.
“No idea.” He pulled me over to where a dock jutted into the water. A small Boston Whaler bobbed in the water next to it, as well as a wooden dinghy, two oars lying on the bottom. “Holy shit, this is perfect.”
I stopped when he tried to lead me onto the dock. “Dallas, no! We are not stealing a dinghy,” I whispered. “You said we were just going to go night-swimming at your old house like we used to!”
“We’re not stealing a dinghy—we’re borrowing it.” He looked up at the massive house, which sat back about two hundred feet from the water. “And the house is totally dark. I bet the owners are out of town.”
I glanced back at the house, too. It did look pretty deserted, but still … could we really take a boat that didn’t belong to us for a spin?
“Come on.” Dallas tugged on my hand. “Live a little. When’s the last time you misbehaved, goody two shoes?”
“I can’t remember,” I shot back. “But it was probably with you.”
He moved closer, so close I felt his breath on my lips. “Then come on. Be bad with me one last time.”
