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This view could never get old.
“So how long have you known Ari?” I asked, hoping to find out more about him. There was only so much you could learn from a Google search, after all.
He beamed, the topic obviously a good choice. “We were roommates in prep school during our freshman year, and we fuckinghatedeach other. I thought he was a stupid fuckboy, and he thought I had a stick up my ass. We basically took turns torturing each other.” His body shook with laughter, the mere memory of it evidently hilarious. “I once replaced his condoms with spicy joke ones I’d found on Amazon. He was balls deep in a girl when his dick started burning. He ran out of the room into the main hallway butt naked, screaming that his cock was about to fall off.”
My laughter bubbled up, tears streaming down my cheeks as I wiped them away. Especially when he pulled out his phone and showed a picture of Ari from that day, standing in the hallway, his face scrunched up, a hand towel covering his bits. It was too damn funny.
“What made you guys change your mind about each other?” I finally asked, when I’d gained control of myself.
All signs of laughter were wiped away, the broken man I’d glimpsed briefly at the party standing there once again.
“My brother died, and the only one in my life who stepped up to make sure I didn’t follow him…was Ari.”
With that pronouncement, he left the balcony to get the food that had just arrived.
CHAPTER 20
MONROE
Lincoln was back to his normal self when I joined him in the kitchen, as though the weight of his words on the balcony had never happened.
I didn’t press him on it. I knew better than most that gashes in the heart needed to be treated with care.
And I had no desire to reveal any of my own secrets–at least the ones he couldn’t possibly know about.
Lincoln heaped a mountain of food onto a plate and slid it over to me.
“I love you,” I breathed, my eyes locked onto the delicious feast in front of me…before realizing exactly what I’d just said.
I gaped at him in horror, and I shook my head frantically, trying to take my words back. But Lincoln’s cocky grin only grew wider.
“I love the food, I meant! The food!”
“Knew you’d say it first, dream girl,” he teased.
I groaned, wishing the ground would swallow me whole, but a second later, I was digging in…because, well, food. Duh.
He slipped onto the barstool beside where I was standing and patted his lap. "Come here,” he murmured.
My face turned red as I brushed my hair out of my eyes, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I can get my own seat," I protested.
He smiled slyly. "I'm aware. ButI'dmuch rather be your seat."
I hesitated for a moment, but then his golden gaze drew me in, again, and before I knew it, I found myself sliding onto his lap.
“Oh,” I murmured, realizing he was…hard.
This was going to be an interesting dinner.
“Just ignore it,” he said casually. “It's been an ongoing problem since meeting you.”
I stuffed a bite of orange chicken into my mouth before I could say something else awkward.
* * *
Dinner had indeed been interesting. He’d insisted on feeding me for half the meal, and I didn’t know what it said about me, but I’d fucking loved it. I bloomed under his attention, my pathetic self soaking up everything he offered like a flower under the sun.
Now I was curled up on the comfiest couch I’d ever been on, in the fanciest room I’d ever seen, surrounded by books and notes, trying to work on my paper. But, I could feel his hot gaze on me constantly, making me squirm. It didn’t help that Lincoln had changed into gray sweatpants, and I was feeling very…thirsty at that moment. The fabric hung low on his hips, and every time he shifted, those delicious abs of his made an appearance. Those sweatpants should be illegal, because he was making my growing addiction even worse. And my thoughts were definitely not on my English paper.
