“Next weekend.”
He rubbed my back, the newspaper crinkling as he set it down. “You’ll have all the guys at your feet.”
“I only need one.” My smile wavered with his frown. Did he want to be that one? Did I want that? It could never work, and I chastised myself for being so stupid as to spend the night with him. It made everything too real. “I guess I should get going.”
He sat forward, so I did too. “Not yet. First, breakfast. Then I’ll let you go.”
“Okay,” I said, brightening at the thought of spending more time with him.
He gave me a t-shirt to wear as he pulled on pajama pants. He cooked a breakfast of bacon and eggs. I watched. He was relaxed. I liked that version of him. I admitted to myself I also liked the other version, the non-relaxed, rigid man—more than I probably should have.
After we ate, I insisted on doing the dishes, but he waved me away. He cleaned, and I returned to his room to change into jeans I had packed for my parents’ house.
I tucked hair behind my ear, watching as he dried his hands with a dishtowel. The more comfortable I became with him—with the idea of him, a man more than twice my age who moved like he owned the world—the more attracted I was to him. He turned around, and I smiled.
“Thanks,” I said. “For everything. My spring break went way better than I thought.”
“And,” he said, “you’re getting a new dress out of it.”
I loved the dress. I could almost feel it in my hands. But at that moment, it seemed completely insignificant. I smoothed out my furrowed eyebrows and nodded. “A new dress,” I repeated. “Sure.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
In the doorway, I turned to face him. He leaned against the molding, crossing his bare, brawny arms and looking down at me. “Good luck at the formal. If you ever need anything—a job, whatever—call.”
I cleared my throat. I didn’t want to leave without a kiss, but I was afraid to make a move. I waited until it became awkward and then finally turned. He caught my wrist and pulled me back. He drew me against his chest, and his other hand cupped the back of my head. “And if you ever needme, call.”
“You?” I asked, searching his eyes.
“I’d tell you to stay, but it wouldn’t be fair to you. It wouldn’t be right.” He lowered his lips, hovering above me. “It would be selfish of me, and very, very wrong.” He kissed me gently. I meant to respond, but my mind melted when our mouths opened to each other. My arms went around his neck and brought him closer. He kissed me in a way I’d never been kissed before. I was scared for it to end, and when it did, I almost pulled him back.
His bottomless blue eyes spoke, but his mouth remained in a closed line. He looked away and returned into the apartment, closing the door behind him.
I remained there, stunned for a moment, acutely feeling the loss of him. Eventually I made it to the elevator and eventually, I drove home.
CHAPTER 10
Gold sequins shimmered into my world, blinding me even from across the store. The dress sat simply on the hanger, calling to me. I clutched Dean’s check in one hand, approaching the dress like a piece of artwork. The bank was a couple blocks down, but I couldn’t bring myself to cash it just yet. For some reason, it felt like the end of Dean and me. But had anything even started? Could what we had even end?
I looked from the check to the dress and back. I ran my hand down the sleeve, my fingers skipping along the small sequins.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I turned to the sales associate.
“Unfortunately, it’s our last one,” she said, reaching out and taking the hanger, “and it’s already been sold.”
I gaped at her, my eyes pleading. “Wait—what? B-but, you don’t understand. Ineedthis dress.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Unless your name is Alexandra and you’re a size four, this one’s taken.”
My eyes widened. “My nameisAlexandra.”
She winked. “Then I suppose this dress is yours.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I just got off the phone with a Mr. Brittany. He said you’d be by—that is, if you’re the beautiful, young blonde named Alexandra.”
