The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(45)

I can smell him from here; the aftershave and shampoo are fresh and masculine, his hair finger-combed and slightly damp. Dark. Thick.

“Want to sit?”

“Where? The floor?”

Abe looks chagrined, but it passes quickly. “I know it’s the floor, but…it’s clean.”

“No, this is fine. The floor works.”

I lower myself to sit, legs stretched out across the aisle, and we’re facing one another—my back to one shelf of paperback romance novels, his back to the one directly across from me.

Abe grabs a paper bag that is lying nearby, folding over its top, setting it aside so it’s almost behind his back.

“What’s that?”

“Apple slices and crackers. And…two protein bars.”

I can feel my brows shoot up. “You brought snacks?”

“I know it’s eight, and we both probably ate, but I thought, what the hell. Just in case.”

It’s almost like a picnic, on a much smaller scale. Thoughtful. Definitely something a sweet boyfriend would do if I had a boyfriend who did sweet things.

Which I don’t.

“Thanks for showing up.”

I hesitate, pondering the level of brutal honesty I want to dish out then deciding he can take it. He deserves it. “I wasn’t going to come. I wanted to stand you up.”

“Why didn’t you?” His question is measured, tone careful.

I roll my eyes. “Hannah insisted on driving me.”

Abe nods with a smile. “She knew you were a flight risk.”

“She did. She knows me all too well, I’m afraid.” I can barely look him in the eyes; he’s so handsome and my heart is beating so fast right now. My lashes flutter as I force my gaze to his face. “What did you say to her? One second she wants to gouge your eyes out with a dull spork then the next she’s bouncing on my bed singing your praises. It was vomit-inducing.”

He laughs again, white teeth a little crooked on the bottom.

Adorable.

“I don’t know…I just told her the truth.”

“Hmm. Well, it worked, because here I am.”

I didn’t even put up a fight, not really; my heart was never in it.

Glancing at him again, my stomach flutters, ripples floating to the base of my throat—who could stay mad at that face? Abe Davis is a teenage dream, and now he’s mine, too.

“You already know what I’m going to say about what happened,” he begins. “Do you want to talk about it again?”

Not really.

Yes.

“I’m tempted to say yes, but…I don’t suppose it would serve any purpose.” I give myself a mental pat on the back for sounding so adultlike and rational. I’m impressed with myself, and I hope he’s impressed with me, too.

“Skylar, I…” Abe lifts his ass off the ground, repositioning himself on the concrete floor. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve been on a date. Years.”

“Are you trying to tell me you have no idea what you’re doing?”

“Yes.”

Good. That makes two of us. It’ll be like the blind leading the blind—which could be a train wreck, but oh well.

“I’m not sure I know what I’m doing either, but I know I’m not interested in dating around. I know myself well enough to say I don’t do casual very well.” I take a peek to see how he responds to this news; in not so many words, I just told him I’m the kind of girl who wants to be exclusive, expects loyalty, and wants a commitment.

Especially when it comes to sex.

I don’t sleep around. I don’t freely give blowjobs, participate in make-out sessions, or let anyone touch my body unless they’re committed to me.

That’s the deal, take it or leave it.

His nod is slow. “When I do something, I’m all in.”

Stupidly, we grin at each other, all the bullshit from the prior week fading away as his brown eyes crinkle at the corners and those white teeth bite down into his bottom lip. Abe breaks the contact first to look down at his shoes—dark gray suede boots. Kind of dressy, kind of not.

Hip.

Is that a thing? Do people say that?

My face tips up toward the dim lights until my eyes are scanning the wooden bookshelves, hundreds upon hundreds of books shoved precariously on each row. Dusty, this store is full of shadows, yellow pages, and worlds waiting to be discovered.

“How did you find this place?”

“My mom is a librarian, and she found it parents’ weekend. It’s kind of her thing, finding bookshops in whatever town she’s passing through or visiting. She’s a book nerd.”

“Are you?” Clearly he knows his way around this place if he knows where the romance section is.

“Yeah, I read a lot.”

Ugh, my heart can’t take it! “Do you come here often?”

He only seems slightly embarrassed. “It’s a great place to come clear your mind, sitting here among the stacks.”

“Do you always sit on the floor?” I mean—it’s concrete and not even remotely comfortable.

“No. There’s one table in the back, but the chairs aren’t great. I do homework here sometimes.”

A hidden gem.