“I’d like to get to know you better,” I said, “and we both have a past, but I’ll try and be mindful of yours. See if we can figure it out?”
Landon bit his pretty pink lip, and when he nodded again, my heart did a full somersault.
CHAPTER 9
LANDON
Dean and I were in the middle of a conversation about our favorite book series when the light overhead flipped off.
We both glanced up, then around the shop, and realized that half the lights in the place were off. One of the baristas was flipping the switch for the neon open sign, and another had just come out of the back with a broom.
She smiled at us. “Not to bother you two, but we are closing up.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful, or horrified. They were closed, and we were still sitting there.
Dean, on the other hand, grinned and stood. “Thanks. Sorry for keeping you.”
The guy who’d been turning off the sign scoffed. “You didn’t. We just figured we’d work around you till we had to lock up. Can’t get in the way of a first date going that well.”
I flushed and ducked my head, but... but it was, wasn’t it?
We’d been sitting in a coffee shop for, well, hours. I didn’t even know how long it had been.
“Let’s walk,” Dean said holding out a hand to me. “I know just the place we should go.”
“There’s a great Italian place on the corner,” the woman singsonged behind us.
The guy waved her off. “Netflix and takeout for the win. Who wants an audience for a date?”
I had the distinct feeling that Dean didn’t mind an audience in most situations. Not—not that I was suggesting he was an exhibitionist. Just, he was a musician. Who played and sang in front of people. My worst nightmare was karaoke, where everyone would hear just how terrible my singing voice was.
My singing was for shower use only.
Still, Dean was holding out a hand to me, and... everything so far had been right. Sure, we were very different in a lot of ways, like our tolerance for people staring at us and judging, but there was so much else that was the same, and more than that, perfect.
We liked the same movies and music and books. We enjoyed talking about them in the same ways. Everything had just been... easy.
Easy in a way it had never been for me before.
With Geoff, I’d struggled to keep conversations going. I’d tried too damn hard not to talk too much about things he obviously didn’t care about, even though it had meant conversations about varieties of sportsball I knew nothing about. I’d spent a lot of time worried I had been “weird.”
Now, though?
Every time I got effusive over a new book or show, Dean just smiled and nodded and continued the conversation. Even the things he didn’t know, he seemed enthused to try. Interested to hear my opinion.
And also, just like me, he could talk about the minutiae for hours. The possible meanings of opaque song lyrics. The reasons and tells for plot twists in books and movies and shows.
The whole afternoon had been perfect. Coffee and conversation and no weird awkward lulls. No declarations that one of us had no idea or interest in what the other was talking about.
When we got outside, even as I heard the barista locking the door behind us and cringed again at the idea we’d inconvenienced them in any way, Dean squeezed my hand and turned to walk down the street, not just like he hadn’t felt a second’s embarrassment, but like he knew exactly where to go.
I didn’t hesitate to follow him.
We walked the maze of downtown streets that I’d have never been able to remember without help—worst-case scenario, I figured I’d have to summon myself a rideshare to find my way home.
Ten minutes later, when he finally slowed to a stop in a spot that wasn’t a crosswalk with a red light, it was... it was a bookstore.
I almost melted right where I stood.
