“—you mean fucking,” he laughed, “yeah, I got it. No more Anya.”
I nodded, satisfied. But just as he went to stand up, another thought flashed through my head. One that was so obvious and serious, I felt as though both of us had been dancing around it on purpose. Compartmentalizing it away, because we didn’t know how to deal with it ourselves.
“Nick,” I said softly, reaching for his sleeve to stop him, “about...all the other stuff.”
He froze in his tracks, and looked down at me without a trace of humor. His face was nothing but sincere. “I’ll never cross any line you don’t want me to. You have my word.”
I nodded quickly and released his arm, but found myself in no way reassured.
Who were we kidding? This entire thing was crossing a line. A line that we’d worked hard to create, even under the most extreme circumstances, for the last two years. How could we possibly go back to the way things were after this? After what we’d have to do?
It wasn’t just pictures and shopping sprees. A relationship implied a physical component as well. Those were the pictures that sold. How was that possibly going to work? How could we possibly go back to working with each other after that? How could we even be friends?
“Hey.” He knelt down suddenly in front of me, as if I’d been saying all of my worries out loud. For a moment, he just stared at me. Then he swept back a lock of my hair with a gentle smile. “You know that whatever happens...it’s just you and me. Nothing can change that.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to so badly.
It’s just...hadn’t things changed already?
The necklace, the bar in New York, the moment in my apartment. We’d seen each other almost every single day for the last two years, and not once had anything like that ever happened before. And now tonight? The moment at the nightclub?
If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could still feel his lips on my skin. The heated flush they left as they kissed my forehead, then my cheek. Then the other. I could still see the look on his face as he looked down at my mouth. All that unbridled passion and adventure wrapped up in a single glance.
A single moment before he closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss me.
No. It was not just ‘you and me’ anymore. Things had already changed. Spun off the rails so fast, I wasn’t sure if we could ever catch them.
But I couldn’t say any of that. Couldn’t seem to find the words. I left it up to him instead.
“About tonight...?”
A sudden flash of uncertainty froze his features, betraying his true colors. He was just as mixed up about all this as I was. Just as confused. Neither one of us knew what came next.
His brow tightened for a moment, before he deliberately smoothed it clear.
“I’ll never cross any line you don’t want me to,” he repeated softly.
I considered this. Considered it for a long time, as he knelt before me on the broken tiles of the run down coffee shop. The night around us was still in full-swing. The streets of Barcelona had come alive, and the two of us were caught in the middle of it. Smudged nightclub stamps on our wrists. Thin, dampened shirts. The smell of sweet liquor and coffee on our breath.
It was only then that I realized our fingers were laced together. At some point, during my silent contemplation, he’d reached over to take my hand. For a second, I simply stared, baffled by how strange a sight it was.
Then...baffled by how natural.
“Okay,” I said suddenly, surprising both of us at the same time, “let’s do it.”
His entire face lit up, but he fought to keep it under control.
“Abby—you won’t be sorry. I swear it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I pushed to my feet, “I’m sorry already. You and I are both nuts if we think this whole thing isn’t go down as some colossal mistake.”
The two of us shared a grin. Then, after a hesitant pause, he leaned down and kissed my cheek. My eyes widened in surprise, but he simply shrugged—flashing a mischievous grin.
“What? You are my girlfriend now. I might need some practice.” He winked. “We want it to look real for the cameras, after all.”
Like I said...a colossal mistake.
Chapter 3