AllFreeNovel
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“Like what?”
“Like you’re so close but so far away at the same time. Like I can talk to you, but I can’t really talk to you. Like you’re with someone else when you should be with me.” Quietude settles between us. “It killed me seeing you with him.”
“It killed me not being with you, not being able to be real with you.” I breathe him in again. “That day when you took me to the lighthouse, all I kept thinking about was how magical that would’ve been if you knew the truth. In some parallel universe, I was there—as your girl—and we were listening to your records and dancing and laughing and kissing and forgetting about the real world.”
“That would’ve been perfect.”
“Think you’ll ever go back there?” I ask. “Maybe we could have a do-over.”
Dorian doesn’t answer, not right away. For a moment, I kick myself for asking. His father has only recently passed away, and that island must hold a lifetime of bittersweet memories for him.
“I’m sorry.” I sit up, my hand clasped over my chest. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Someday,” he finally answers. “Someday we’ll get a do-over.”
I curl under his arm.
“Come with me,” he says.
“To the island?”
“On tour.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or being serious.” Which is ironic because, despite our intense and undeniable connection, we’re still barely more than strangers, still getting to know one another.
“I don’t want to be apart from you. I don’t want to risk losing you again. And more than that, I don’t want to wait any longer.”
I rest my chin on his bare chest, gazing up at him through sleepy eyes. It’s late afternoon, but it’s been a long week. Hell, it’s been a long month.
One could even argue it’s been a long year.
I’m exhausted.
Blissful.
But exhausted.
“You never lost me,” I tell him.
If anything, I’m the one who lost him.
“You know what I mean.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “We still have one more year of touring. I don’t want to wait another year to be with you.”
My bedsheets are tangled around our legs, and I’m almost positive this is what heaven feels like, but we can’t stay locked up in my apartment until the end of time.
“My entire life, I’ve never had anywhere that felt like home,” he says, “until I met you. You felt like home to me.”
“What does home feel like to you?”
He exhales. “God, I don’t know how to describe it without sounding like a complete sap.”
“This is a judgment-free zone.”
“Well, in that case . . .”
We chuckle, and I reposition myself so that he has my full attention.
“Warm,” he says. “Familiar. Nostalgic. Special.”
“No one’s ever described me in those terms.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Dorian traces his finger lightly along the back of my arm.
“Very good.” I lean in to steal a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. “And for the record, your answer was the antithesis of sappy.”
“That’s a relief,” he teases.
“Can we make a new rule?” I propose. “Complete honesty. Always. No matter what.”
“I fucking love that rule.”
“Can I amend it to add no judgment, ever?”
“Sure thing.”
“Okay, so in the vein of brutal honesty . . .” I bite my lip. “I adore this side of you. But also, it really turned me on at Driftway every time you got mad.” I wince, eyes squeezed tightly shut. A moment later, I peek out of one of them, searching in the dim space we share for his reaction.
“Really?” he asks, his mouth half-open like he’s contemplating something he’s never considered before.
“Yes,” I say. “And I don’t claim to understand it. I just feel like you should know because if we go forward with this—”
“What do you mean if?”
“Sorry. As we go forward . . . as a couple . . . one of these days, we might have a quarrel of some kind. And if you get . . . I don’t know . . . heated or something . . . it might turn me on . . . and then we might have to stop fighting and focus on . . . other matters.”
“Fair,” he says. “And I appreciate your honesty. Since we’re opening up here, I think it’s only right that I tell you something as well.”
“Okay.”
“Shortly after we went our separate ways, I looked you up online. Your social media was private, and I don’t do social media anyway, but I found your LinkedIn profile,” he says, pausing. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to admit this.”
“What? What?”
“I screenshotted your headshot photo so I could look at it anytime I missed you.”
“Stop.” I sit up.
“Does that creep you out? Honestly, it creeped me out sometimes too.”
“No,” I say. “Earlier this week, I screenshotted an old picture of you I found on Phantom Symphony’s Instagram account.”
“Holy shit.” He pulls me against him, flashing a mischievous grin. “We truly are perfect for each other. We’re both a couple of weirdos.
