Page 87 of The Write Track
Brody and I used to sit around making fun of romance tropes at conferences. The “instalove” of it all. That was the actual term. We claimed it wasn’t possible to fall in love with someone so fast.
He’d proven that wrong when he fell in love with Bree. It hadn’t been instantaneous—that was lust, not love—but it had been fast. My relationship with Bella had progressed just as fast, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was real. Perhaps, when it was legitimate, falling fast was the norm. The reasonI couldn’t believe it before was because I’d never felt anything close.
We talked about anything and everything, but I didn’t bring it up to Bella. I wanted to ponder it a bit longer. Sure, we’d been fake dating for six weeks. We’d only been real dating for two of those weeks, though.
“Hey, Bellarino,” I called toward the bathroom as I adjusted my shirt. We’d come back to the cabin after our walk around the lake to get cleaned up for dinner. That had led to a little hanky-panky. That was my term, not hers. She laughed too hard at the hanky-panky of it all. That’s why I kept saying it.
There was no better sound in the world than her laugh.
“Hmm?” She appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.
She was dressed in cute cutoffs and an oversized shirt that hung off one shoulder. I couldn’t see a bra strap, which was giving me ideas.
“Your dulcet tones suggest you’re growing impatient,” she teased.
“It’s almost dinner time, and I’m starving. You ran me ragged this afternoon, and I’m about to faint from hunger.”
She offered up an eye roll. “I ran you ragged?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I didn’t run you ragged. It was the opposite.”
“It didn’t feel opposite to me.” I reached out and grabbed the waist of her shorts as she edged closer, relishing the feeling of my fingers against her warm skin. “The only reason this camping stuff sucks is that we’re expected to eat meals in public. If we were in the city—or The Landings—we could get food delivered and spend the night naked.”
She laughed, sending warm tingles through me. “We only have about eight days left. I think you can survive.”
I did the math in my head. She was right. Eight days. Suddenly, I was wishing for more time in the cabin. “What…?” I was uncertain if now was the time for that heavy conversation.
“What are we going to do when we get back?” She’d read my mind.
I nodded. “It’s too soon to live together, right?”Please say no.
“It’s way too soon.”
My smile disappeared.
“However,” she continued in a calm voice. “I’m sure we can arrange a few sleepovers upon our return. I know you prefer your house, but there are some cool bars within walking distance to my place.”
I didn’t let her finish. There was surely more she wanted to say, but it didn’t matter. I swooped in for a kiss. “Sold. Will you at least give me a drawer for my stuff?”
She snorted out a laugh that was more guttural than ladylike. “You want a drawer?”
“In both your bedroom and bathroom.”
“Are you going to give me one in return?”
Little did she know, I’d started making room during our one night together at the house. She’d passed out early, clearly needing some sleep, and I’d been too antsy. Having her in my space but not making room for her was a bridge too far.
“Already done,” I said smugly.
She looked taken aback. “You found a drawer for me?”
“I found half the dresser for you,” I replied. “I didn’t do the closet yet, but that’s mostly because I haven’t organized my stuff from the move. There will be plenty of room for you there.”
“And in the bathroom?”
“I only need one drawer. I’m handsome without effort. You can have two—count them, two—drawers.”
