Page 100 of Don't Be in Love

“I imagine all the paintings in my home being stolen or lathered in peanut butter beyond repair.”

“Are you ever serious?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Some would say damage to artwork is the most serious enigma of them all.”

She exhaled in annoyance and turned for the door—

I caught her elbow and stopped her.

“Fine, fine.” I took a breath. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yes,you.”

She froze. “What about me?”

“I dream about you.”

She stared at me in disbelief.

“You’re really going to make me say it again?”

Her eyes darted across my face. She didn’t believe me. But she wanted to. Or else her elbow wouldn’t be in my hand still.

“Yes,” she repeated.

With the slightest force, I tugged on her arm. She obliged, taking a step. Her eyelashes were still wet, pulled into sharp points like the tip of a detailed paintbrush.

I let my hand travel down the length of her arm before stopping at her fingertips, holding on.

“You keep me up every night. I dream about August. And I dream about the night before Halloween when we kissed. And I dream about seeing you kiss someone else. I dream about things that haven’t even happened.”

The tightness in my throat made it feel as if I just ran five miles. I was capturing air from the contained space to keep from saying anything else.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” I rubbed at the skin on my forehead.Way to look pathetic, Dorian. She’s horrified now.Part of me wanted to retreat, while the other half was grateful the words were finally out.

“Do you wish they had happened—the dreams?” she asked.

“That wasn’t the question.”

“It’s a new question.” She stepped forward.

“Adelaide,” I warned. This was an opening to embarrass myself. An opportunity to divulge how suffocated I was by the dreams of her—of us. I felt like a mouse backing away from a cat.

She took another step closer, forcing me into the wall of the booth, nowhere to go. I was pinned. I looked to the right where the bridge stood stronger than I was now.

“Dorian,” she responded. Then her fingers found my chin and pulled my gaze down. My throat bobbed. A pathetic apology for what I was so close to doing.

“I’m not answering that question,” I said firmly. “You haven’t even answered mine.” I was beyond flustered. “If this is your way of torturing me, it’s working. Because I lose all ability to lie when it comes to you—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” she exhaled before grabbing the sides of my coat and pulling me down, crashing her lips against mine.

The rain seemed to cheer behind us as my shoulders fell backward into the glass.

My inner conflict immediately collapsed. A fortress built block by block left in disarray, and all the rubble sat in Adelaide Adorno’s hands. I shoved more of the debris into her grip by taking her jaw between my palms and kissing her back.