Page 73 of Not on the Same Page

TRINA

It’s been a whole week of Casey since he showed up at my apartment with that book. I’ve been to his place, he’s been to mine. We’ve barely come up for air. It’s like we’ve finally given ourselves permission to fully immerse ourselves in each other, and we aren’t wasting any time doing it. He took me out to see a movie and get ice cream after work tonight to get away from the late summer heat, which was the most wholesome thing ever, and now we’re walking hand-in-hand through Old Town as the sun gets close to dipping behind the buildings. It has been such a welcome balm after the conversation I had with my aunt. His presence makes me calm in a way I’m not used to, but I’m trying to tell myself I deserve.

“Every time I walk past this place, I want to go inside,” I say wistfully as we pass a bar with a bright green exterior. The outside tables are all full, but there’s one table right by the window that looks open.

Casey uses our intertwined hands to pull me to a stop. Laughing, I rebound into him as he pulls me close.

“So, let’s go in.”

He says it so simply, like we should explore our city and everything it has to offer any time the desire strikes—the same way we’ve been poring over each other like the pages of a really good book. But I shoot him a skeptical look.

“We were on our way back to your place because we both have to work in the morning,” I remind him.

Shrugging, he eyes the exterior of the bar. “What’s one beer?” When I don’t move, he looks down at me with an indulgent smile. “My girl wants to go inside the bar, so I want to take her inside the bar. It’s August. Things are slow this month. What good is work-life balance if we can’t take advantage of it?”

I can’t help the grin that stretches wide across my face. “You’re very persuasive.”

Casey nods solemnly, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Was it the logic of publishing vacation month?”

Shaking my head slowly, my smile grows wider. I can’t take my eyes off him—the way his deep brown eyes glow in the early evening sunlight, how his newly-shaven jaw invites me to run my palm over it and draw his mouth down to mine.

“It was when you called me your girl,” I tell him, more than a little infatuated.

He drags his gaze over my face as if he’s thinking exactly the same thing I am. “You liked that, huh?”

“Very much.”

He bends his neck to brush his lips against mine. My eyelids flutter closed as I soak in the sweetness of the moment, the sun warming my skin as he kisses me on a sidewalk in Chicago while people skirt around us on their way to wherever they’re going. But here we are, paused as if we have all the time in the world.

“If I had known it’d be that easy, I’d have tried that tactic a long time ago,” he jokes against my lips. “Maybe I’ll try it next time you want more money from me for an author.”

Pulling away, I playfully shove his shoulder. His laugh makes my toes tingle, the sensation rising all the way up to the top of my head.

I could fall for this man and his laugh and his soft touch and the way he makes each long, summer day feel endless in the best way. If I were being honest with myself, I should probably admit I already have.

I wait for the fear that should come with a realization like this—the elevated heart rate, the shaky hands, the urge to bite my nails, the warning sirens in my mind. But it doesn’t come. There’s only Casey, smiling at me like he’s truly happy. Like I make him truly happy.

And I’m happy, too.

Completely unaware of how he’s tilted my world on its axis, he tips his head toward the door. “One beer. I promise to get you back before you turn into a pumpkin.”

I could resist him, but I don’t want to. And why should I, when I finally have someone who makes me happy? I only want more of this. So I interlace our fingers again, and we enter the bar together.

“Let me get this straight.” Isabella narrows her eyes at me over her Americano. She takes a sip, letting me stew for a minute. She’s doing it on purpose, I know she is. She likes to see me squirm.

“You’ve been banging Casey Endersen for the better part of a year, and you didn’t tell me about it?” she finally asks.

I’ve been so deliriously happy every minute Casey and I are together, but it’s also been weirdly lonely not having anyone on the outside to talk to about it, which is why I decided I’d tell Isabella this morning.

“No.” I shoot her a pointed look. “I’ve actually been actively not banging Casey Endersen for the better part of a year, and I know you heard me say that.”

“Okay, but you didn’t tell me, which feels like the important part.” She snaps her fingers. “You fucked him in Denver, didn’t you?”

I look around, making sure none of the coffee shop patrons heard that. “Could you keep your voice down?”

“I knew you looked relaxed. No one comes back from Writers and Agents with anything but a headache and a list of people to contact that’s a mile long.”

“If I had known I’d be walking into the most cliché conversation ever, I would have trusted my gut and continued to keep it to myself,” I grumble.