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I didn't turn and look. I just stood with him in line, my fingers twined through his, and tried to ignore all the feelings rushing through me. There was heat, yes, but it was something more than that—something even more terrifying.
I was having fun. I liked him. And I didn't want to stop being next to him.
It was our turn at security, and I took the opportunity to disengage myself from Kyle to get my identification. I felt Kyle look at me briefly, but I didn't look back.
It was clear to me, now: I knew what I wanted. It was what I could never have.
Now I just had to get my shit together and accept it.
* * *
First class was almost full, but we still managed to find a little corner all to ourselves.
"Why was Katie asking us that?" I asked, playing the scene over and over in my mind.
Kyle shook his head. "I don't know where that came from. I do know it can't be good."
"Maybe we're not doing a good enough job pretending?" I asked in low tones.
"Who's pretending?" Kyle asked innocently. He laced his fingers through mine, then he just sat there, stubbornly holding my hand.
"We're clear. No one followed us," I whispered, pulling away from him. "You don't have to do that."
He wouldn't let go of my hand. "I want to do that." He jerked his chin toward our hands.
"Why?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"My hand feels lonely without your hand," He grinned at me. "So deal with it. If you don't want to hold my hand, then don't."
I just sat there, looking at our entwined hands as if they belonged to aliens. "But what… but why…" I was flustered, unable to decide which question to ask.
"Talk to the hand, Lo," Kyle said, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "You want to get into semantics? Talk to it. Tell me if you get the response you're looking for." He didn't let go of me for an instant.
I bent down toward his hand. "You are being very stubborn," I whispered at it.
With his eyes closed, Kyle smiled briefly. But he didn't budge. Sighing in defeat, neither did I.
Because I didn't want to.
Shortly thereafter, the plane took off, and Kyle fell asleep. I watched his handsome face, turned toward me, completely oblivious and innocent. In my past dealings with Kyle, he'd never been innocent. But really, he seemed as though he'd changed.
Hitting rock bottom can do that to you. I looked at our entw
ined hands. I ought to know.
I looked out the window, grateful that he was next to me. I listened to his even, regular breathing and clung to him in a way I never would have had he been awake.
I was dangerously close to having real feelings for Kyle. I'd always wanted him to like me when we were kids, but this was different. And much worse. Because now we were adults. I was in a precarious situation to start with—publicly shamed and about to be fired from my movie. Kyle had saved me, at least for now. But if the press found out the truth about our circumstances, they'd crucify me, and I'd never work in Hollywood again. I was still too new to be inoculated from the fallout. If they found out I'd hired an escort, I'd be done for. If they also found out that he was my ex-stepbrother, my walk of shame would last all the way back to Texas.
But it wasn't just that. It was his father and my mother. If my mother were Stateside right now, she'd probably have to be involuntarily held at a yoga retreat so she wouldn't attack him. She'd never forgiven him about those drapes. Knowing my mother, she never would.
I looked at Kyle. His face was relaxed in sleep, belying none of the stress I knew he felt about seeing his father again. I was glad that he was here with me, but it was a sharp feeling. I was so glad it hurt.
I went back to looking out the window, not letting go of his hand.
* * *
I woke up a few hours later when I felt water dripping down my chin. I sat up straight and wiped it… only to realize I'd been drooling. I shot a surreptitious look at Kyle, who was unfortunately wide awake and reading the sports section of the Los Angeles Times.
