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"You love your job."
"Yes, but I love you more."
I feel my cheeks flush. I know it must be true--we've been together for a year. A year ago, I dumped Ryan's sorry ass to be with Luke. We've been through a lot, like Luke's awful ex trying to manipulate him into a relationship, but it's been amazing.
I was never a romantic person. I'm still not, not really. But, being with him, I finally understand. I understand pop songs, greeting cards, proposals written in the sky.
Being with Luke is everything. He's so sweet. He's an insufferable tease. He's needy and obsessive and incredibly immature, but I wouldn't change him for anything.
He's perfect.
"What are you thinking, Ally?" He looks at me with those big, brown eyes of his. They're so damn earnest.
I shake my head. "It's nothing."
"It looked like something."
"Just that I love you," I say. "That's all."
His face lights up with the purest joy. God, that was it. The first time I saw his face light up like that, I was hooked.
"Go on."
"In your dreams."
He shakes his head. "No, my dreams of you are never that tame."
"Mr. Lawrence," I say, "this is a family restaurant."
"So it is."
"But I wouldn't necessarily ask you to stop."
"Would you ever ask me to stop?"
I bite my lip. We've been so busy--I've had early calls times and he's been home late--that we've barely touched each other in the last
two weeks.
Tonight can't come soon enough.
"We'll see," I say.
"Believe me, Ally, you're going to be in agony tonight. In the most delightful agony. You're going to beg me to do anything to release you from that agony."
***
Dinner is an amazing, three-course affair--a fresh salad with plump tomatoes, seared sea bass with braised kale and roasted yams, and a plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries.
The sun sets, until the only light is from the stars outside and the candle flickering between us. I tell Luke about all the irrelevant details of my trip--the oppressive sunshine in Arizona, getting dragged to townie bars by the other cast members, Laurie scolding the director of the week for getting too invested in his shots.
After dinner, Luke insists on driving. "It's a surprise," he says. He takes me to the bookstore, the place where we had our first real date or something like it. Just like the first time, we walk around the aisles, our fingers lingering on the crisp paper. We find a corner upstairs in the nonfiction section, and we steal a long, deep kiss. It's been so long, and there's so much need pouring from both of us. His hands brush against my thighs, all the way to the edges of my dress, and I moan into his mouth. "Not here," I say.
"Of course not here," he says. He nods to the movie theater across the street. "Not when I have a chance to repeat one of my favorite--"
"We're not going to luck into an empty theater tonight."
"Miss Summers. What do you take me for--some kind of pervert?"
