Page 14 of Lovers Like Us

Kinney texted that I’m uninvited to her funeral until I go on a double date with her and her future girlfriend. Luna keeps sending me confetti and thumbs-up emojis. ButXander…

He hasn’t said anything atall.

Maybe my little brother is thinking back to the hickey on my neck. And how I could’ve confessed the truth then. Maybe he thinks we’re not as close as he believed we were. Maybe he’s questioningeverything.

I tried calling him multiple times today, and he never answered. I’d rather eat a bowl of nails than be out of touch with my brother. So I’m hoping I can reach himsoon.

All the thoughts about my relationship sidetrack me. I crack a knuckle. “How is this going to be…for us?” I askFarrow.

He cocks his head slightly. “What do youmean?”

“I’ve been thinking alot—”

“Noshit.”

I almost smile. And he notices.Fuuck.

Farrow stares at me like I blew him. Way toosatisfied.

I pull my face, brows scrunched. Scowling. “Like I was saying,” I tell him, “how am I going to survive being on a bus withyoufor four months. Plus my family, plus SFO, and again,you.Sounds likehell.”

His mouth upturns. “Sounds likefun.”

“My hell is your fun,” Irealize.

“Wow.” Farrow grins. “When you put it that way, I love itmore.”

I give him two middle fingers, but his hand slides around my waist. We draw closer. His chest against my chest, my bicep instinctively curves around his shoulders. We’re almost eye-level, almost exactly the sameheight.

In the past thirty minutes, I’ve thought about every smallmoment.

The private hours I spend with Farrow. Every drive in Philly. Nights where we’re alone in my bedroom. The morning wakeup calls where we whisper about stupid ordinaryshit.

It’ll all change slightly, and he may likechange—but I don’t know what our relationship looks like when we start moving pieces. And I’d be lying if I said the unknown didn’t scare me abit.

Farrow breathes, “We’re going to be…” His voice trails off, his fingers touching his earpiece. “Thosefuckers.”

We detach, and before I ask, he tells me, “SFO knew about the tour before I did. Come on.” He heads into the hall with his bowl ofeggs.

I follow him, my stride lengthier than his. Easily, I catch up to hisside.

We’re step-for-step.

He’s not running. He’s not alarmed. Farrow eats and walks, looking more unconcerned than concerned, and his tattooed fingers comb through hishair.

“You’re still in hot water with SFO?” Iquestion.

“I’m always in hot water.” Farrow eats a spoonful. “It’s where I do my best work.” The sexiest smile inches up hismouth.

Fuckme.

We turn a corner, and as soon as I open the door to the study, I spot three bodyguards. Lounging on dark leather furniture. Ceiling-high bookshelves landscape the forest-greenwalls.

Their heads automatically swing in ourdirection.

And Thatcher, Oscar, and Donnelly are only looking atme.Appraising me like I’ve intruded into an exclusiveBodyguards Only Cluband I’m not allowedinside.

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