9. Chapter 9
Lark
My hair whips—probably unattractively—around my face as Lennon drives us in his open Jeep back to his apartment. I settle in and enjoy it. It’s Lennon; I don’t have to be on all the time with him. It’s nice to be around someone who has known me at my most awkward and still wants me around.
It doesn’t take too long to get to his apartment.
We take the stairs up to the second floor, where he walks down a short hallway and opens a door.
Inside, directly to the left, there’s a small galley kitchen with a bar-height counter and a couple of stools on the other side of it.
Past that is the living room. Unsurprisingly, he has a giant television mounted on the wall.
We walk a little farther to a sliding glass door that opens up to a balcony.
There’s only a sliver of a view between buildings, but it’s a nice outside space with a grill and some wicker couches around a small table.
He takes me back inside and toward the front door.
There’s a narrow hallway there with a bathroom on the left and a quaint little bedroom on the right.
Lennon rubs a hand over the back of his neck.
“This is the smaller of the two bedrooms, and the bathroom isn’t attached. We can switch if you’d rather—”
“No, this is great,” I say as I belly flop onto the bed. It’s ridiculously comfortable and smells like clean laundry. “Yep, this is amazing.”
He chuckles. “My room is just down the hall, and I have a bathroom in there, too, so at least we don’t have to share.” He’s looking around as if trying to see the space through my eyes.
I sit up on the edge of the bed. “It’s perfect, Lennon. Seriously.”
Lennon drops his hand and smiles sheepishly. That expression makes him look so young. If it weren’t for the muscles and tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt, I’d think we were back in high school.
“Okay. I’ll just be…” He waves in the direction of his room. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
The shower feels really good. I’m not only washing away the airplane smell but also a morning’s worth of tears, and I emerge completely rejuvenated.
I riffle through my toiletry bag to find my hair products and hair dryer, makeup, and several different vials of anti-aging creams and serums. I’m sure half of those are as good as snake oil, but I’m not taking any chances.
I take my time getting ready, then stare at the bathroom door as I clutch a towel around my torso.
The sudden realization that my clothes are in my bedroom descends on me like a cloud.
In retrospect, that was pretty stupid. Lennon could be anywhere.
He could see me wrapped in nothing but a towel as I walk between the bathroom and the bedroom.
We’ve always been close, but not hang-out-in-nothing-but-a-towel close.
There’s nothing to do but make a break for it, I guess. And buy a robe as soon as I can. I roll my eyes and grumble to myself that we’re friends , dammit, and he’s not thinking about me like that anyway, so what does it matter?
Even if my mouth went dry and my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest when I first saw him at the airport. Even if standing there, watching him sling my bags into the back of his car, I had a sudden urgent desire to trace the tattoos rippling over his biceps with my fingers.
It’s just because I missed him. That’s all.
I open the bathroom door and stick my head out to look left, then right. The coast is clear, so I quickly walk the three steps to my bedroom and shut the door behind me.
When I emerge again, I’m fully clothed in the blue sundress Lennon told me to bring. I feel like a new woman.
I make my way to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. Lennon is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t look up when he chuckles and says, “Turns out there’s not much to do when I don’t have you to call.”
Laughing, I walk over and sit next to him.
When he puts his phone down and looks up at me, he goes completely still.
He stares at me for a long moment, his face completely unreadable.
What is he doing, looking at me like that?
I know I probably look a lot different than the last time he saw me—softer around the middle, saggier around the eyes—but I had been clinging to Hannah’s assessment of my looks for weeks.
Was she lying to spare my feelings? Am I so different that I’ve caught him off guard?
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, suddenly really self-conscious. “Do I look okay? I can change or—”
“Absolutely not,” he says, his voice quiet and all the more fierce for the lack of volume.
Oh. Oh. He’s flustered by me. Suddenly, the self-consciousness is completely gone.
He clears his throat. “I mean, you look great.” He shakes his head as if he could dislodge the words he wants and let them fall out of his mouth. “Fine. You look fine. Are you ready to go?” He stands up suddenly and jams his hands into his pockets.
I rise more slowly, trying not to laugh at his discomfort. “Yes,” I say. He’s looking out the door to his balcony, then he shifts his gaze to the ceiling. It’s clear he’s avoiding me.
Smirking, I sashay past him, swinging my hips a little more than necessary. “You haven’t seen me in a while. It’s okay if you forgot how pretty I am,” I tease. “But this one’s on you.”
“What does that mean?” he asks, his voice much steadier. If there’s anything that could always get Lennon to calm down, it’s teasing him. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.
I raise my eyebrows pointedly. “You were the one who told me to bring this dress.” I tap my chin, pretending to consider something. “In your defense, though, you’ve never actually seen me in it. Consider yourself warned.”
Lennon lets out a grunting sort of sound. “Do you think your ego will fit through the door, or should I bust it open to make room?” And just like that, the air in the room has snapped back to normal.
I make a big show of studying the door. I spread my arms to measure it lengthwise, then step on my tip toes to see how tall it is. “Hmm.” I face him and press my back to it, batting my eyelashes. “If yours fits, it should be fine.”
He takes a few long strides toward me, pinning me to the spot with his hazel eyes.
They’re so fucking beautiful in person; there’s even more liquid gold swimming in them than I remembered.
I’m mesmerized as he locks them on me. When he’s inches away, he leans down into my space and wraps his hand around the doorknob to my left.
“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he practically whispers. His warm breath tickles my cheek. I have to fight to keep my eyelids from fluttering closed.
He straightens up after a moment and twists the doorknob. “Shall we?” he asks in an overly polite tone.
I guess two can play this game, because now I can’t seem to control the butterflies in my stomach. I clear my throat and shake my head quickly. “Um, yeah,” I say as I try to get my knees to stop wobbling so I can follow him out the door.
This trip is already shaping up to be more of an adventure than I thought it’d be.
***
Lennon pulls up to a small whitewashed building with a green sign that simply says Tacos in bold letters.
There are mismatched tables and chairs on a giant patio with a view of the ocean far in the distance.
Some of the tables are occupied, but not as many as I’d expect on a gorgeous day right in the middle of what would be considered the lunch rush back home.
“Believe it or not, this is the best place for tacos in the city,” Lennon says.
I twist in my seat to face him. He’s squinting out the dashboard at the restaurant as if he’s suddenly second-guessing his choice of lunch venue.
“I love tacos,” I reassure him.
His eyes shift to mine and bounce back and forth between them for a moment. “You and Devin took me out for tacos the last time I was in Michigan. You ordered fish ones. They were so bad, but you didn’t want to be rude and take them back, so I did it for you.”
I smile softly. I had forgotten that until just now, but the memory comes rushing back to me.
“The second batch was still really bad.” What I don’t mention is the sauce dripping down my chin that Lennon wiped away with his finger.
He tasted it and immediately spit it out.
Devin giggled like a maniac, so he hammed it up, taking drinks of water and spitting them back out.
I was so grateful for the humor to take my mind off the way his calloused finger felt on the skin of my chin.
But from Lennon’s smirk, it’s obvious he remembers it as clearly as I do now. “I figured I’d show you what real fish tacos are supposed to taste like.”
“From here?” I’m sure the tacos are great, but it doesn’t look very well-kept.
“I told you—it’s the best in the city. And besides, Noah wanted to wine and dine you at some five-star place, but I figured this was more your speed.”
I hum. “I don’t know whether to be offended that you don’t think I’d enjoy a fancy lunch or admit that you’re probably right.”
Lennon chuckles, the sound so much richer and warmer in person than it is over the phone. It relaxes something in me I didn’t even realize was tense.
“Everyone enjoys fancy lunches sometimes,” he says, looking out at the restaurant again.
“But Noah is… Well, he can be intense. And these sorts of meetings aren’t typical for him, so I’m not really sure what he’s got up his sleeve.
I figured keeping it casual was the best way to keep him casual.
” He shrugs and shoots me an apologetic glance. “Not sure if it’ll work.”
Suddenly nervous, I run a hand through my hair, trying to re-tame the curls after the open-air ride here. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” There’s a dark edge to his voice that makes me turn to look at him. “Jessica will also be there, and she’s kind of a wild card.”
I flip the visor down and open the mirror to check myself. “A diva?” I run my tongue over my teeth to catch any errant lipstick stains, even though I don’t see any.
Lennon hums in agreement. “And young.”
I eye him sidelong. “And successful. A dangerous combination.”
He nods silently, then reaches out to grab my hand. His warm palm presses into mine as his fingers squeeze the back of my hand reassuringly. “You look great. They just want to meet you. No big deal.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re kind of making it seem like a big deal.”
“Probably a bigger deal for me than for you.” His voice is quiet enough that I need to lean in to hear him.
Which might be a mistake as that scent that is so distinctly him washes over me—one that smells ethereal.
Like big open skies and white, puffy clouds.
Between that and his hand still holding mine, the inside of the Jeep feels too small, and my skin feels too tight.
“How so?” I ask, my voice sounding much steadier than I feel.
He flashes his best smile. If I were standing, my knees would go weak at seeing it. “I want my new friends to like my old friend.”
There it is. My way out of this trap of insanity and want I’ve been wound into. I keep getting assaulted by how everything about Lennon is perfect and magical and feels like home, even two thousand miles away from it.
I make an overexaggerated frown and rip my hand away from his to bring it to my chest. “Who are you calling old?”
He laughs again, but this time I’m prepared for it. I meet it with one of my own.
“Let’s get some tacos, Songbird,” he says before hopping out of his Jeep.