The Duet(42)

I hadn’t attended my senior prom. At the time, I was dating an older guy and he didn’t want to go, so I’d skipped it and we’d had sex in the back of his car. It wasn’t so bad; I mean I got some serious carpet burn on my back from his shitty seats. At the end of the night, after he’d dropped me back off at home, I’d felt a pang of regret about not going to prom for at least a little while. Especially since, if I recall correctly, that car sex had lasted all of two minutes in total.

When Logan cleared his throat, I realized I needed to answer.

“Logan, I’d love to,” I began, but he cut me off with a fist pump and a “Yes!” before I could continue. “I just have to check my schedule with my assistant, and also, I think Jason should come with us, too.”

Yes, that second part was a nice touch.

Jason’s brows nearly shot to the ceiling when I threw him into the mix, so I continued. “I’m sure there’s a girl in your school who would love to go to prom with Jason. So let’s figure that out. Until then, why don’t you give me the date and I’ll coordinate everything with Summer.”

Logan probably didn’t hear a single word I said after “I’d love to” because his eyes were glazed over and his smile was so wide it almost split his face in two.

“Would you do that, Jason?” Logan asked with an air of hope.

Jason wiped his mouth with the napkin in his lap, stalling for time, but when he saw the joy on his cousin’s face, he nodded, just once. “Yeah. Okay.”

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until I exhaled with his reply. Why did it feel like I was in high school and I’d just asked Jason to my senior prom?

Jason’s hand slid onto my leg beneath the table and he squeezed once, just above my knee. I glanced over, appreciating his secret smile.

“I think Brooklyn and I will have fun reliving our high school years,” he spoke as his thumb slid over the sensitive skin on the inside of my knee.

In true eighteen-year-old girl form, my next thoughts went something like this:

OH MY GOD, I NEED A DRESS!

Is he going to take my virginity?

Oh wait…





Chapter Thirteen





The next morning a car was waiting for me outside on the gravel drive just as Summer had promised. Everyone was already up and doing their own thing. I’d seen LuAnne briefly at breakfast, but I really wanted to see Jason once before I left. Two days without seeing him had started to feel like it would last a lifetime.

I lingered in the kitchen after breakfast. I took extra care to drag my bags downstairs as slowly as possible, but still he was nowhere to be found.

When the driver honked twice, I knew I didn’t have any more time to linger. I sighed and opened the front door, resigned to the fact that I’d have to settle for seeing him when I returned in two days.

Just before I stepped out, I heard him say my name.

“Brook,” he called behind me. I spun around to see him standing in the doorway of the kitchen with gray pajama pants slung low on his hips. He’d forgone a t-shirt and shoes and his hair was deliciously mussed up from sleep.

He didn’t make a move to walk toward me, but he held his cup of coffee up in a silent salute. I returned it with a small bow, enjoying the low chuckle it warranted from him.

“Come back safe,” he said, turning back toward the kitchen. That image of him standing in the doorway seared into my memory as I closed the heavy front door behind me.

…



“Are you almost done in there?” Summer called from the other side of the bathroom door. I was at my first photo shoot of the day, one that I hadn’t known about until I was handed a tiny piece of string they thought could pass as a bathing suit.

I groaned. “Yes, but just so you know, I thought we were going over bikini designs today. I didn’t know I’d be modeling them for the campaign.”

With one last glance in the bathroom mirror, I pushed the door open to find Summer sitting on a chair in my private dressing room, flipping through papers on her lap. She was sporting a new eyebrow piercing and dark, shimmery eye shadow at 9:00 A.M. My eyelids would have revolted.

“I thought I told you about it,” she said, not bothering to glance up from her work. “Oh, well, good thing you’ve waxed recently or they’d have some serious retouching,” Summer said, pulling me back to the moment.

“Ew, God. It’s not that. I gorged myself on Italian food last night and now I’m about to take photos that will be plastered on billboards and magazines,” I complained, turning in a circle to inspect the bikini from every angle in the dressing room mirror. Damn you, bread. Must you taste like heaven?