“I don’t want to meet Ryan. I guess I didn’t like hearing you were on a date, but I don’t own you.”
“Charli, I’ve wanted to date you since you sat down in seat 2C. Are you not catching on to that? It’s still me, Layton, and I’m still desperately trying to woo you. There may have been dates but there’s been zero wooing. Only hoping for you.”
Something unfamiliar pricked at my eyes, emotions I’d never felt. I couldn’t unravel the ball of feelings in my chest.
“Come on,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Eat your burger and tell me what’s going on with you. What the hell are you writing? And then we can get some ice cream from one of the street vendors.”
He picked up his burger and took a bite, and I couldn’t help but watch him chew, the way his jaw flexed. I noticed he wore the stubble again.
Oh, that stubble. I’m a goner.
Wiping my mouth after a decent bite of burger and a fry, I said, “I submitted my collection of short stories. I got like thirty no’s and then just like that, two deals came my way. The book is coming out at the beginning of the summer. I just approved the cover.”
“That deserves a wow! And now what?”
I turned my focus to the table. I didn’t want to admit this out loud.
Layton’s index finger lifted my chin and raised my gaze to meet his. He raised an eyebrow in question.
“I’m writing a love story. A beauty and the beast kind of thing ...”
“Well, I’m flattered. You’re writing our tale.”
Except I’m the beast.
I didn’t say anything. I ate a fry and changed the subject, asking about the movie he was working on.
Dinner passed with more small talk and laughter. As we stood up from the table, our hands didn’t know where to go. I wanted his to find the small of my back; mine wanted to find his other hand and weave our fingers together. Neither happened, but he did hold my coat up and I slipped inside, buttoning up tight.
When we walked through the door, cold air blasted us.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not an ice cream night,” I remarked, feeling a little sad at the prospect.
I didn’t want the night to end, and I didn’t know when he was leaving the city. I knew he’d met with the small music label again, and I assumed he would be out of here tomorrow.
My time was up, and the irony of the situation struck me. We were like a strange flip-flop of the classic fairy tale, but I was the prince and he was Cinderella at the ball. Soon he’d transform back to who he was and slip off into the night, leaving me alone.
I didn’t care if he became the old Layton. I only didn’t want him to slip away.
He gave me a somber look. “I guess I owe you one?”
We stood outside on the sidewalk, flurries swirling in the air, taxis whooshing by, and a herd of elephants surrounding us. Passion and hesitation flowed between us in equal parts.
“Want to come back to my place? I make a mean hot cocoa,” I blurted before I could change my mind.
“Lead the way,” he said, his relief palpable, and I waved for an available cab.
We hopped in and I rattled off my address. As the cab sped us to my place, we sat side by side in the backseat, thigh to thigh like we had on the plane, both of us staring forward, refusing to look at each other because of those damn elephants.
Then his hand reached for mine. I’d put my gloves on, but I still felt the heat of his marvelous hand through the cashmere.
And I wanted that heat everywhere.
