Page 48 of Lovers Like Us

“Sarcasm?”

“Yes. Jesus Christ.” I growl out myirritation.

“Just checking. You seem alittle—”

“Don’t say it.” I’d literally cover his mouth if he weren’t driving rightnow.

“Pure.”

I flip him off, and in the next brief glance, he studies the corners of my eyes, the skin beneath bleeding black-and-blue. I’ve checked in a mirror. I’ll need to conceal the bruises with makeup before the meet-and-greet.

I watch his palm and fingers rub his knee before he clutches the wheel again. Talking about sex just sends me down a rabbit hole. An abnormal, really strange abyss that no one would expect, but he can tell I’m drifting somewhere.Mentally.

“What are you really thinking about?” heasks.

I try to lean back. “Mymom.”

Weight sinks in the air at those two words, but he waits for me tocontinue.

I inhale a strong breath. “I was just thinking about how difficult a trip like this would’ve been for her—if she were here at my age, still battling her sex addiction.” I lick my lips. “I don’t know. It’s the small stuff. Like, would she have wanted to stop the bus and screw my dad? Would she be fidgeting or upset? Or would they’ve just fucked on the couch? Then I start thinking about how fucking weird it is to be casuallythinkingabout my parent’s sexlife.”

He opens the cap to a Lightning Bolt! energy drink. “It’s your normal,” he tells me. “It doesn’t have to be everyone else’s.” He sips the drink, then offers me the slendercan.

I take a swig and pass it back, remembering how non-judgmental and open-minded Farrow is—and yeah, I like it. I can’t have someone in my private life belittling me for not being perfect. I get that too muchonline.

Farrow merges onto another freeway. “What would you’ve done if you weren’t rich and famous?” he asks me. “For acareer?”

That alternate universe.“You don’tknow?”

“Why wouldI?”

“It’s public knowledge. Every time press interviews me, they ask that question.” It reminds me of something Beckett said in the bathroom. Something that I’ve tried not to let creep into my brain like a parasiticinsecurity.

Beckett told me,“For every 200 facts Farrow knows about you, you only know 2 facts about him. So what do you really even know about Farrow? I’m not trying to be a dick. Just be careful. You’re not the kind of person who lets anyone in, and he’s slipped past all your guards, hasn’the?”

He has, and maybe I haven’t grilled Farrow enough or fucking quizzed him as much as Beckett would. But I hate being indecisive or even doubtful about my own actions. I like to move and speak with assuredness, and even this morsel of uncertainty makes mecringe.

Farrow is quiet trying to find a memory. “Didn’t you joke around in those interviews?” He switches lanes. “Unless you were serious when you said you wanted to be an intergalactic bountyhunter.”

“I was serious, and I was four,” Isay.

He pops his gum, about to laugh. “When I asked, I was asking the twenty-two-year-old in the passenger seat. Not the four-year-old.”

“Right.” I lick my lips, restraining a smile. “Truthfully, I try not to think about that alternate universe, but sometimes...I know where I’dbe.”

Farrow holds my gaze for a longer moment, understanding in his brown eyes. “The military,” he says with a nod, beating me to theanswer.

“Yeah, the military,” I say.He knows me.Really well. I rake a hand through my hair, my gray paracord bracelet still tied around my wrist. I don’t take it off that often. “So your pastrelationships…”

He checks the directions on his phone’s GPS. “I was wondering when you’dask.”

So he knew Beckett’s words would seep into my brain somehow. Some fuckingway.

Farrow sets his phone down. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll answer.” He’s always said asmuch.

I instinctively shake my head. “It’s not that big of a deal. A huge, colossal part of me hasn’t wanted details about your exes, which is why I haven’t priedbefore.”

Picturing him with other guys when I have strong feelings for him—I start scowling, then wincing. Almost like I’ve sprayed Pam or Lysol in my eyes. No, actually, I’d rather spray my eyes with household products than hear in grave-fucking-detail how Farrow fell in love with anotherman.