Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(36)

“Okay. Ready?”

I laughed. “I think I’ve been asked that question more today than I ever have in my life.”

He turned his head. He was smiling, his nose strong and straight and masculine, his breath coming in warm puffs against the dark night. “Must mean you did something right.”

And then, he kicked off.

I squeezed, squealing a little as I tried to hang on to his bobbing torso.

Greg laughed, turning his head again so I could hear him. “You okay?”

The sound hit my ears and my chest, reverberating through his body into mine as I hung on.

“Stop asking me that,” I said with another laugh.

It was colder once we were moving, and I wished I’d had my mittens and my big coat. My hands really were cold. But we went on, the rough pavement under us sending tremors up my legs and numbing my feet. He leaned with a turn, and I leaned with him, the world tipping up just a little as we rounded a curve. His body bobbed again as he kept us going.

He was warm and sturdy in my arms, the comfort of him both surprising and befitting. It felt right—the comfortable ease of two people who were well suited.

In friendship. That’s all he wants—to be your friend.

My heart ached at the thought, and I closed my eyes, touching on every sense. The vibrating of my feet and legs from the wheels on the pavement. The chill on my cheeks like an icy kiss. The feel of Greg—his narrow torso in my arms, my cheek in the valley of his wide back. And I burned every sensation into my memory to keep.

Once he built up some speed and seemed sure of my balance and his, he took my hands out of his pockets and put them on his shoulders, shooting me a wink before he knelt down.

The wind hit me in a gust. We were on top of a hill and picking up speed, the dark park on either side of us, trees rolling by as the street under the wheels blurred past. And I held on to his shoulders, my lips parted and smiling and heart thumping hard enough to almost hurt. But it was the best kind of hurt.

I felt alive.

When I let out a whoop, Greg smiled up at me, his nose red and a happy laugh on his lips. The wind whipped my face and hair, numbing my knuckles, but I didn’t feel anything but joy.

Too soon, we slowed, and he had to stand again.

My hands were in his pockets the second they had the chance, and my smiling cheek pressed against his back once more. His own hands covered mine in the depth of his pocket, big and warm and strong and good. And for a long time we rode like that, time marked only by intervals of his foot against the pavement.

And then we were at my building, and the day really was over.

I stepped off his board, and he put his foot on the tail to tip it up and grab the nose. And we stood there in front of each other, both of us smiling, neither of us seeming to know how to say goodbye.

“So, what’d you think?” he finally asked.

A slow smile spread on my face. “It was the perfect way to end today. Thank you. For all of this, for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Annie.”

Another long moment stretched out before he finally looked away, dropping his board back to the ground. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And I grinned at him like a fool and said, “Goodnight.”

I didn’t go inside until he rode away.

When George saw me coming, he popped out to hold the door open. “Hello, Miss Annie. Have a good day?”

“The best, George,” I said with a giggle and kissed him on the cheek before heading inside.

A few minutes later, I was walking into the still apartment. The only light was over the oven in the kitchen. I could hear a television going from Susan and John’s side of the house, but the Daschle side was dark and quiet.

I walked past my room, depositing my coat and shoes and bag before hurrying to Elle’s room where I knocked softly on her door.

No response. Her light was off, too.

So, of course, I opened the door. “Elle,” I whispered. “Are you still awake?”

Silence.

I walked over to her bed, noting the slow rise and fall of her chest. “Elle,” I said only quietly. When she didn’t speak, I gave her a shake.

“Whahum?” she mumbled, dragging a breath through her nose.

“Oh, good, you’re up. Scoot over.”

She shifted to give me room, blinking at me before rubbing her eyes. “How was your day?”

“It was so good! I had hot dogs and rode a bike and got a tattoo and walked around Central Park and rode a skateboard!” I rattled off. “I had sushi too, but that was mostly just weird.”

She laughed sleepily. “I’m glad you had fun. You were with your friend…Greg, right?”

“Yeah, he’s so great. I mean, he taught me how to ride a bike, Elle. The man has the patience of a saint. And he told me stories while I was getting my tattoo, and I even got to see one of his, on his back. And let me tell you, he has got a nice back.”

One of her brows rose, and she rolled over to face me, smiling. “So, Greg is cute, huh?”

“Oh, man, so cute. His hair is this thick, gorgeous mess, and he’s got this jaw that’s covered in scruff, square without being Paleolithic. And—gah!—his smile is so pretty. And he’s got the best laugh. Seriously, his laugh could make me smile through the end of Old Yeller.”

“Does he like you, too?”