Again, But Better(96)

I run into Chad at the mouth of the hallway into the dance/bar area on my way back from the restroom. He strolls right up to me.

“Hey, Chad,” I say reluctantly.

“Hey.” He comes closer.

I take a half step back. “What’s up?”

“You have really great hair.”

I widen my eyes sarcastically. “Thanks.”

Over his shoulder, I spot Pilot making his way over with a beer. I refocus on Chad to find him already going for it. His eyes are closed, and his lips are coming at me. I pull back and smack my hand across his face. It makes a lovely thwack.

“Ahhh!” His hand comes up to cup his cheek. He glares with drunken, slow-motion shock.

“Step away, asshole. You’ve seen me with Pilot literally all weekend, and you’re here with Babe. You don’t get a douche-kabob pass because it’s your birthday.”

I step past him to where Pilot is watching wide-eyed and amused. He falls into step next to me as we walk away. I glance around for Babe.

“Damn, is that what happened last time? Because I can’t believe I missed that!”

“No.” I snort. “Last time, I slid down the wall, ducked out, and ran away. I thought maybe this time would be a little different since the weekend has been so different, but nope, still a douche canoe.”

He shoots me a goofy smile. “Look at you, relapsing back into your old smack-happy ways.”

“Ha. Ha.”

He shakes his head. “Once a smack addict, lamppost a smack addict.”

I snort. “Pilot! You’re using lamppost all wrong! And you’re making the word smack sound like slang for hard drugs.”

He throws his head back, cackling. I spot Babe in the opposite corner of the room, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

“Babe’s over there. We should go keep her company.”



* * *



The band finishes up twenty minutes later, and the three of us funnel toward the stairs. “We have to find Chad,” Babe sighs as we make our way down.

“Don’t worry. We’ll catch him at the coat check,” Pilot reassures her. Behind Babe, Pilot takes my hand. His thumb draws light, sparkly circles on my wrist. It’s distracting.

“Are you gonna be okay with him tonight?” I ask her.

“Yeah, he’s a drama king, but he’s harmless. I went in to make a move earlier because I thought … I mean, I know him trying to hook up with you was his super-mean way of driving home the point that he only wants to be friends.”

“Well, that’s pretty shitty,” I point out.

“This is a pattern with him. He acts out like a five-year-old. We’re in a room with two other people, so he won’t be obnoxious.”

“My phone’s on if you need me,” I assure her. “Also, just for reference, we’ve already missed the last Metro, so we have to head straight for the taxi stand.”

As we come around the corner of the staircase, Chad is visible, standing near the door with his head down and his hands in his pockets. The three of us get our coats, and Chad joins us silently as we walk to the cab stand down the street. Babe takes up a brisk pace, speeding ahead, and Chad lags behind.

“Hey.” Pilot nudges me softly as we stroll down the cobblestone street.

“Hey.” I nudge him back with my shoulder.

“Remember how we were going to time travel back to that Beatles concert?” He beams.

“Of course.”

His eyes are bright. “Should we finally make our way to Edinburgh next weekend?”

“Why? Are the Beatles playing?” I quip.

He releases a breathy laugh and looks down, smiling.

“What’s this, no retort? Master of moves, five stars on Trip Advisor, Pilot Penn is flustered?” I grin at him triumphantly.

He rolls his eyes.

“To answer the Edinburgh question, I’ve been dying to hit the birthplace of my home skillet Harry ever since the first time we discussed this.”

Pilot drops his gaze. When he raises his head a few moments later, his eyes are troubled. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to go last time.”

I sigh. “Me too, but we’ll go this time.” I squeeze his hand before letting it go as we come to a stop behind Babe in the taxi line.





16. I’m a Goner



Forty minutes later, Pilot and I step off the elevator onto the sixth floor. We make our way to the end of the hall, coming to a stop outside the door, in a classic end-of-date posture.

“And so date number three draws to a close.” He smiles.

“We’re pretty good at this date thing.”

“I agree.”

He takes my hands in his, I lean forward, and our lips find each other.

This kiss is fire again. I welcome the blaze, get lost in it.

My arms twist around his neck, and his hands run down my sides, flames running rampant over my skin as they graze over my thighs. And then I’m no longer on the ground.

My back’s against the wall, and my ankles lock around his waist. I run my hands up from the base of his neck and through his hair, and break away to catch my breath.

I glance down at the floor. “How did this happen?”

“Not sure. Something with time travel?” He bats his eyelashes. They’re so nice and long.