"You've gone somewhere," Dean says, tilting his head at me.
I refocus. Smile. "Sorry. Long week."
"Gap year long week or just regular person long week?"
"Is there a difference?" I reach for my drink again. "I have too much time and I'm filling it badly and my body has forgotten what a schedule feels like."
Dean laughs. It's a good laugh, the kind of laugh a person should want directed at them. I feel nothing.
Then something catches in my peripheral vision before I can register why, and maybe I'm imagining it, but I know before I turn around because my body has already decided to be stupid about this.
Of course. Of course he's here. Of course this is happening when I try to move on.
Then he's at our table, standing over me with an expression I don't get time to read. Callahan reaches out and takes my face in his hand, not even a little gently. He's big enough that his palm spans my jaw, fingers curling in, thumb pressing into my cheek, and I get one full second of him before my brain catches up.
Sea-green eyes. A jaw held so tight I can almost see the effort of it. He smells like outside. He looks like trouble.
He turns my face toward him, tilting it up like I belong to him.
"Finish your little playdate," he says, voice low and dangerous. "I'm driving you home."
Then he pushes his tongue into my mouth. One slow, filthy lick. My hand comes up to grab his wrist, thick enough that my fingers don't meet, and I don't know if I'm going to pull him closer or push him back. Which is the whole problem with Callahan and me.
Then he lets go of my face and steps back and walks out without so much as a glance at Dean.
The restaurant resumes its regular volume. My blood has not gotten that memo. My face is hot. Other parts of me are also hot, which I'm going to need a moment to process.
Dean watches him leave, then turns to me with raised eyebrows, clearly in shock.
"I want you to know I think you're great," he says pleasantly. "Genuinely. But I am also pretty and I would very much like to stay that way, so…"
I laugh, grateful for the help.
"It's not that serious."
“Well, I’m serious. Have you seen the size of him?"
He gestures to his face, making a sweeping motion. "I have a good thing going with this face. I'm not letting Cal freaking Holt mess with that."
I laugh harder than I've laughed all night.
"He's not going to do anything to your face. I think."
"That is deeply not reassuring," he sighs, leaning back to study me. "I am pretty sure he's not your boyfriend seeing as you're here, but he definitely looked like a jealous boyfriend."
I let out a shaky breath and take a sip of ice water. I feel like I'm on fire.
"You're not even a little bit mad?" Dean asks.
"I'm furious," I admit, but I can't wipe the smile off my face.
He picks up a nacho and points it at me.
"You know what? You deserve nothing less than whatever got that man to act like that in public."
Dean is a sweetheart. Dean is exactly what a person is supposed to want, and I just spent forty-five minutes across from him waiting to want it.
All I've ever actually wanted was for Callahan to pull and not push. I am so tired of both of us being so careful about something that is making me reckless from the inside out.
