Page 99 of Don't Be in Love

Once we were across the bridge, I searched for a place for us to stop while we waited for a car. But everything was closed. It was Christmas Eve. And it wasn’t like Westminster Abbey offered much coverage with its sky-high spokes.

The only solution I could spot amongst the blur of the lights was the last spot I wanted to be stuck in. But Adelaide was shivering.

She didn’t hesitate to follow me as we passed Big Ben and crossed the street. Jumping onto the sidewalk, I ushered her into the small box.

“A telephone booth?” she laughed as I shut the red door behind us.

“Not my first choice, believe me,” I exhaled and shook out my hair. Dark strands of her own stuck to her face as she peeled her knit hat off.

I leaned against the side of the phone box, across from the actual telephone, to give us—her—space.

“I’ll call a car now that we have somewhere to wait,” I said. The weather drummed all around us as I called my driver, avoiding Adelaide as she peeled wet layers off herself and wiped shook them out.

“Yes, right by Westminster,” I explained. “Thanks.” Once I hung up and returned my gaze, she was already putting the scarf back on. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

She nodded, looking around the tight space. Looking anywhere but my face.

I should tell her. Right now. This was the time.

But watching the night sky cup her face in a series of shadows, and witnessing droplets trace the shape of her jaw asshe admired the rain, my whole speech evaporated. I didn’t want to lose her. I couldn’t lose her.

What would I even say?

I tried, you know. To look at you as a friend. I really did. But every time you smiled. You laughed. You breathed. Your lips parted. All I could think about was kissing you. And you’re not supposed to want to kiss your friends. You’re not supposed to want to brush the straps of their tops off their shoulders and kiss down their neck and across their collarbones.

“Dorian?” Her voice was soft like silk. The embodiment of liquidized pearls.

My gaze dove to her.

Maybe if I didn’t answer she’d say it again. But my mind worked too quickly, wanting to know what she needed, so I responded, “Yes?”

“Thank you, for tonight.” She gave me a short smile. “I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun around Christmas.”

“I was hoping you’d enjoy it.” I rubbed my hands together without the company of her gloved hands.

A moment of silence passed before my curiosity got the best of me. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“What?”

“Earlier, you said you started drinking coffee—”

“Oh, I told you. Nightmares.” She fiddled with the ring on her index finger. A ring I was pretty sure I had kissed that August night.

“No, those were my words that you went with. What is it really?”

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. What’s your question?”

“You said you weren’t sleeping either.”

“That’s not a question.”

She continued, “You said you understood having nightmares. So what’s keeping you up at night?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Can’t answer my question with another question,” she rebutted.