Page 266 of Handsome Devil
He was frowning. “I loved it anyway. You were so fearless in high school.”
Wrong.
“Too bad your friends didn’t share that opinion,” I muttered.
“Lex always thought you were hot.”
“Johnny said I was fugly.”
“Johnny’s stupid.” He frowned again. “Johnny’s fugly.”
“Johnny O’Reilly is not fugly.”
“Souls can be fugly too,” he said, quoting me.
“Then why are you friends with him?”
“Because he understands me. I don’t have to pretend to be nice.” His thoughts seemed to drift off for a moment. His eyes drifted closed. I almost thought he was falling asleep. “He’s fearless, too,” he mumbled. “I admire that about him.”
I couldn’t help myself; I stroked his hair back from his forehead, just one tiny, gentle stroke. It was so silky and soft.
He sighed.
“What are you afraid of, Dane?” I whispered.
“Everything,” he muttered. His eyes cracked open, just barely, then closed like he couldn’t hold them open anymore.
Then he breathed, “You.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Dane
When we arrived at the penthouse, my bodyguard dropped us at the steel door. This one didn’t have access to the penthouse yet, and I wasn’t sure I’d give it to him. Maybe I was done with having too many people in my space.
I just wanted one.
As I stumbled into the penthouse on Devi’s heels, I felt somehow more lucid but just as drunk.
As she turned on some lights and took off her coat, then went to get me a glass of water, I followed her around. And a lot of weird, nice things fell out of my mouth, like, “It smells like your beauty in here,” “Did I ever tell you that the highlights in your hair shine like cognac under the kitchen lights?” and “I wish I was shorter so you didn’t have to look up at me.”
“Okay, let’s maybe not say the exact everything that comes into our heads,” she suggested.
I guzzled the entire glass of water she gave me. Then she poured me another as I went to a cupboard and started digging around. I pulled out sugar and what I thought might be baking powder. I had some trouble reading the label. Then I realized I was trying to read the French side.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m making pancakes.” I opened the fridge.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Since when do you make pancakes?” She shut the fridge door.
“I can make a pancake.”
“No.”
