John doesn’t lose eye contact with me until he picks up the discarded tissues and places them into the built-in waste receptacle and then pulls his phone back out of his pocket.
“You can use the hand dryer in the ladies’ room when we get there” is all he says until we reach the restaurant.
I let out my breath as quietly as possible, hoping he doesn’t realize just how frustrated I am. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that little issue ofnothaving sex with him. Surely he isn’t going to restrain himself because of that. Surely he isn’t agentleman.
Oh, shit.Ishe?
When Richard pulls up in front of the restaurant, John gets out to open the car door for me and holds out his hand. I take it and watch him stare down at my legs. Hungrily. I emerge from the back seat. Languidly.
We hold hands as we walk into the restaurant, his fingers comfortably entwined in mine, as if we do this all the time.
He suddenly stops in his tracks when we enter the waiting area. I tell him I’m going to the ladies’ room to dry off my dress, but he pulls me back. “Hang on a second…” He lets go of my hand and reaches into his pocket for his phone. Yet again. “Are you following me on Instagram and X yet?”
“Uh, no. Why would I be on X? I’m not fifty.You’reon Instagram?”
“Why wouldn’t I be on Instagram? You’ve seen how good-looking I am.” He gives me a wry smile. “You should follow me on IG. Search my name—I’m verified.”
“As Johnny B. Nerdballs?”
“No, my handle is TinyDancerNeedsASpanking,” he says, without glancing up at me or missing a beat.
I’m so stunned and turned on that I can’t even move my mouth to tell him that’s too many letters.
“Wait. Let me take a picture first.” He holds his phone up to take a picture of us leaning in, touching cheekbones. A totally natural usie. He politely shows me the shot and asks me if I sign off on it before posting it on Instagram. “I follow you,” he informs me. “I’m tagging you. Get ready.”
“Get ready for what?”
“You’ll see.”
When I find his profile on Instagram, I see that he has over seven hundred thousand followers, and it makes sixteen-year-old Me angry.
“By the way, Louisa Boehmer follows me on Instagram, so we’ll post a lot of good pictures of you.”
The artistic director of my ballet company follows him on Instagram. Jeez Louisa.Who are you, and what did you do with Johnny B. Nerdballs?
Our dining companions are surprisingly pleasant. Phil is around forty, fit, mostly bald, very nice, and super into Johnny—in a businesslike way. Teresa is under thirty, very well groomed, fuchsia lipped, and smiley. It’s difficult for me to pay attention to these lovely people because Johnny’s hand has either been holding mine on the tabletop or gently resting on my thigh in a way that is intimate but not at all inappropriate, given that the newlyweds across from us are also physically comfortable with each other.
He has transformed into Mr. Double Date. He is somehow always attentive to meandour hosts. Smiling and chatting casually in a way that I have never witnessed before. It’s like he flipped a switch.
I suppose I’m staring at John a little too intently while he talks to Mr. Investor Guy about investmenty things, becauseMrs.Investor Guy waves her hand in front of my face to get my attention.
She wrinkles her nose while grinning at me. “How did you two meet?”
“Oh, I’ve known him my whole life, really.”
“No! You’re so lucky. I have so many single girlfriends who are dying to meet him.”
“Really? You mean women in Houston?” I look over at John, who’s giving Phil his full attention, or so it seems. He squeezes my thigh.
“Houston. Austin. Here. New York. I have friends all over who know about him. You do realize he’s famous, right?! How long have you been dating? I didn’t realize he wasn’t single.”
“We just reconnected quite recently, actually. He’s been my brother’s best friend forever. But this is new.”
John waits for Phil to finish his sentence and then says to Teresa, “It’s new for Olivia, but not for me.” He takes my hand in his, tilting his head to gaze at me. “I’ve had a crush on her for as long as I can remember.”
I don’t even recognize his voice as he says this, but he doesn’t deliver these lines like he’s reading a script.
“She had no idea, and I kept it hidden from my best friend. I tried to forget about her, but as you can see, she’s…unforgettable.” He lifts my hand to his lips, kisses it, places it back on the tabletop, stroking it with his thumb. Then he lets go to reach for his water glass and turns his attention back to Phil.
