Back then, even if it had only been half a day since we’d lastseen each other, he would pull me straight into his arms, haul me against his chest, crushing our torsos together. I would mold to fit his sturdiness like a wave spilling over rock, inhaling the woodsy, fog-on-morning-water scent of him.
Today, he doesn’t embrace me at all. Instead, he studies me head to toe, then lifts a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my bejeweled ear.
“Hey, Bristol,” he murmurs, warm and low.
“Hey, Savannah.”
“I missed you.” His eyes turn flinty. He grabs my tote bag strap off my shoulder and lifts it onto his.
I don’t know which of his words, his behaviors, are a performance and which are simply Liam being Liam. He’d do this with no agenda behind it—carry my bag, announce that he’s missed me—wouldn’t he?
Are we performing for each other, or aren’t we?
Liam notices my frown. “Stop thinking about it,” he says. “That’s a new rule. You have to do your best not to think about it, or this isn’t going to work the way you need it to.”
“I’m trying.”
He exhales heavily, shaking his head at me in perturbed amusement. “I know what’s wrong.”
“What?”
“We skipped a step.” With that, he heads in the direction of the baggage carousel.
I trail after him. “What step?”
Liam keeps his eyes focused on the conveyor belt. “I never asked you to be my girlfriend.”
“Well, that’s because I askedyouto be my boyfriend,” I remind him.
“No offense, but your way of asking wasn’t very romantic. It was depressing, in fact.”
“Tough, but fair.”
I spot my luggage and my guitar, and Liam helps me haul the cases off the belt. We head in the direction of his parked rental car.
“Are we sleeping on tour buses?” I ask.
“No. We’re sleeping in hotel rooms.”
“Is that normal?”
“For my job, yes. There are only a handful of buses, and we don’t make the cut. It’ll just be you and me most of the time in my rental car between tour stops. It works better for me that way. I’m first in, last out of every venue.”
Wow. That is alotof alone time. Even when two people start to date in earnest, they separate for hours, sometimes days, sometimesweekswithout seeing each other. Liam and I aren’t dipping our toes into this relationship. We’re polar plunging.
Again, he reads me. “I’ll be gone from late morning until late evening most days. You’ll have plenty of alone time to explore or write music in private. Of course, you can come to any show you want,” he goes on, sounding mildly nervous. “But you don’t have to. I mean, I don’t expect you to see Penelope’sentiretour just because I’m forced to listen to her songs every night. But you’re allowed to come. I have a special pass for you.”
“You should have led with that. Is it pretty?”
“Not yet, but we can go shopping for a sticker pack, on me.”
When we reach the car, Liam pops open the trunk and slides my luggage toward the back of it. “Sit,” he commands, tapping the edge.
He gives me anindulge me, pleaselook when my brows draw in, so I pull myself onto the trunk, hands at my sides.
“Paige.” My name sounds like a plea on his tongue. He’s using bedroom eyes, even as he purposely keeps his hands off me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
