I moved to close the door when he jumped in front of it to stop me. “Wait! No. Please don’t change. You look fucking fantastic.” He tipped his head. “And we’ll be late if we don’t leave right now.”
“Fine.” I left the door to go grab my purse and the light jacket I’d borrowed from Sabrina. “I feel ridiculous though.”
“I swear to god, you won’t when we get there. I’m just, uh, kinda nervous? And dressing up only makes me more nervous, so I thought I should be comfortable in one way at least.”
I grabbed his hand and rubbed my thumb over the back of it. “I make you nervous?”
He groaned. “Oh sweetheart, you have no idea.” He swayed toward me. “So much. I really don’t wanna fuck this up.”
A ripple ran through my body at the amount of absolute power I felt in that moment. He wanted me so much that he was nervous? Over me?
I watched him sway toward me for a beat then closed my eyes, certain he was about to kiss me. Screw going out. We should just have the date right here. Or better yet, in my new bedroom.
Dylan tugged my hand, pulling me down the hallway. “As much as I want to kiss you right now, I really can’t. I’m not rushing the next time we’re together, and I really want to show you how much you mean to me first.”
“Dylan,” I moaned, all but stomping my feet as I followed him. “I believe you. I’m important. You value me. You only want the best for me, which is why you wanted me to live on my own. I believe it all. Now let’s go back inside my place.”
His rich laughter rolled through the narrow hallway. “Christ, you’re cute. But I’m serious. There’s something I need to show you.” We exited the building, and he led me to his truck, still idling on the curb. He clicked the door lock button and then opened my door for me. “My lady?”
Rolling my eyes, I tucked a hand in the overhead handle in the truck’s interior and hoisted myself inside. And a few minutes later we were riding down the freeway. “So where are we going exactly?”
“A gallery showing like I said.”
I hummed. I mean, I liked art, probably more than the average girl, but still I’d rather be back in my apartment learning all the things that made Dylan growl and moan. What man seriously turned down a sure thing to go to a gallery?
We exchanged some small talk about my new apartment, the car Austin had hooked me up with, my college classes for next semester, and my volunteering. Dylan filled me in on the shenanigans I’d somehow missed at work the last week involving Ryan intent on a wiring job and a nerf gun.
“The best part though is that the bullets were the kind with the suckers on the end. So he’s standing over the bike lift with a dart stuck on his forehead. He yelled so loud. Somehow, he didn’t think it was funny. Go figure. I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast.”
“Where was I when all this was going on?” I giggled, picturing Ryan with the dart between his eyes.
“Austin said he gave you some time off to volunteer?”
I nodded. Made sense.
We exited I-80 and turned through the downtown corridor until he came to a stop in the alphabet streets near where a crowd of people waited in front of a brightly lit red brick building.
Dylan turned the truck off and silence filled the cab as he surveyed the crowd, then he audibly gulped.
“Dylan? What’s going on? Why are you so… Are you showing tonight!?”
He nodded tightly.
“Oh my god. Congrats! That’s amazing. You know it’s going to be okay, right? Everyone is going to see what an amazing artist you are. Because you are amazing. I’ve loved everything you’ve painted.”
“Let’s hope that’s still true,” he muttered not quite under his breath.
I threw him a confused look, but he was already swinging out of the truck. I gathered my things, and pushed my door open. He was standing there with his hand out, waiting for me. Taking his hand, I climbed down then wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling his body against mine. “You are going to kill it. I have every confidence in you, okay? Just relax and enjoy the moment.”
Going up on my tiptoes, I pressed my lips against his. And just like that, I felt all the tension drain out of his shoulders as he kissed me back.
After a moment and before our kiss could turn too dirty, he pulled away with a sigh. “Thank you. Just…” He sighed again. “Thank you.”
I studied his face. He looked calmer, but I could tell he was still a bit keyed up. “Would it help if we called your family? Considering this is the first I’m hearing about it, I doubt you even told them about your showing.”
His shoulders moved as he shifted his weight. “I don’t know.”
“Your Aunt Wendy sounded like she’d like to see your work.” I remembered her little speech about art at Thanksgiving dinner.
