Only Him (One and Only Book 2)

by Melanie Harlow

  “Maren?” Dallas’s voice pulled me into the moment. “Something to drink?”

  “Oh. A glass of wine, please.” I looked up at Jason. “A sauvignon blanc maybe?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely. One sauvignon blanc and one old fashioned. I’ll be right back, and I apologize that service might be a little bit slower than usual tonight. We’re quite a ways from the kitchen and bar.”

  “That’s okay,” said Dallas. “We’re not in a rush.”

  “Very good.” Jason headed for the stairwell door, leaving us alone again.

  “Good thing he’s young and looks in good shape. He’s going to be up and down the stairs all night.” Dallas picked up his water and took a sip.

  I shook my head. “I still can’t wrap my brain around this.”

  He shrugged and sat back in his chair, looking smug and mischievous and way too handsome. “Don’t think. Just enjoy yourself. Pretend you’re in high school.”

  “This totally reminds me of something you would have pulled back then.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. Although this is more romantic than the pigs.”

  I groaned. At the beginning of our senior year, Dallas and his football buddies had been suspended for letting three pigs loose in the halls at school. They’d spray-painted numbers on the pigs: one, two, and four. It had taken hours for school officials to realize there were only three pigs. “Where did you guys even get those pigs?”

  Dallas shook his head. “I don’t remember. I think someone’s uncle had a farm? God, that was hilarious.”

  “Poor little piggies. I felt sorry for them, being painted-on and then chased all around school.”

  “It was non-toxic paint. I promise you, no pigs or humans were harmed in that prank.”

  “Unlike the Slip’N Slide episode at the end of junior year.” In order to “claim” the senior hallway as their own, Dallas and his friends had turned it into a giant Slip’N Slide.

  The crooked grin broke out on his face. “Oh yeah, Hagerman broke his nose, that asshole. It was his own fault. No one told him to dive face first toward the lockers. He overshot the tarp by a mile.”

  “And how about parking your car in the school courtyard?”

  He held up one finger. “That was in protest over them denying us parking passes senior year. It was us exercising our right to free speech.”

  I rolled my eyes. “They denied you parking passes because of all the shit you guys had pulled the year before.”

  “Whatever, that one wasn’t even my idea, but I got all the blame for it.”

  “Because it was your car! I told you that you were going to get blamed for it.”

  “I know. Holy fuck, you were mad about that.” He was laughing again. “You didn’t have sex with me for a week.”

  “I didn’t talk to you for a week.”

  He cocked his head. “You didn’t?” But his foot nudged mine under the table, so I knew he was joking.

  I leaned my elbows on the table. “And then, of course, there was the letter.”

  He sighed, the smile sliding off his face. “Yeah, I know.”

  Shortly after the parking incident, Dallas and his friends had written a letter on school letterhead from the principal to all the new freshmen that the school was implementing mandatory “penis inspections.” While several senior guys had been behind the prank, Dallas had taken full blame for the idea and its execution, resulting in a long-term suspension, which his parents viewed as the final straw. They sent him to boarding school right before our one-year anniversary.

  But of course, I hadn’t realized that until after he was gone.

  “What can I say?” he asked. “It seemed funny at the time.”

  “It was kind of funny,” I admitted. “But you had promised me you weren’t going to get in any more trouble.”

  “Did I promise that?”

  “Among other things.”

  Dallas looked at me like he had something more to say, but a second later Jason came through the door with a tray carrying our drinks. He set them down and asked if we were ready to order, and I had to admit I hadn’t even looked at the menu yet.

  “Just give me a minute,” I said, opening it up and scanning it quickly for something I’d like. Only the steaks had descriptions that included the name of the farm where they came from, but I wasn’t sure I felt like steak tonight. I bit my bottom lip as I read through the entrees, wondering if the rest of their meat was organic.

  “Let me know if I can help,” Jason said.

  “I have a few questions,” Dallas said. “The roasted half chicken. Is it organic? Locally sourced? Cage-free? Was the chicken joyful while he was alive? I can’t eat a sad chicken.”

  “Um …” Jason looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m not exactly sure where the chickens come from.”

  Laughing, I kicked Dallas under the table and said, “I’ll have the lobster spaghetti.”

  “And I’ll have the New York strip. Medium rare.” Dallas handed the menu over to Jason with a grin. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to give you a hard time.”

  The waiter smiled. “No problem. I’ll put this right in.”

  When we were alone again, I picked up my wine glass and stuck out my tongue at him. “Meanie.”

  “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. I felt like I knew what you were thinking. Was I right?” He took a sip of his drink.

  I looked off to one side, took a drink of wine. “Maybe.” When I looked back at him, the crooked grin was on his face, and my heart was zinging around in my chest like a pinball.

  I wondered if he knew what I was thinking then.

  Two glasses of wine, one bowl of lobster spaghetti, and half a slice of butterscotch peanut butter pie later, I was pleasantly tipsy, overly stuffed, and not at all ready for the night to end. Two hours had flown by. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much on a date.

  “You mentioned you like taking road trips,” I said, setting my fork down and picking up my cup of tea. “Where have you been?”

  “Lots of places.”

  “What are some of your favorites?”

  He ate another bite of pie and thought as he chewed. “Zion National Park. Zephyr Cove. Big Sky. The skiing is amazing there.”

  “I’ve never been skiing.”

  “What?” He finished the last of the pie and set down his fork. “What the hell do you do during winter?”

  “Fly somewhere warm for a yoga retreat, like Bali.”

  “I do like beaches. Can’t say I’ve ever been to Bali, though.”

  “You should go sometime, it’s so beautiful. Put it on your bucket list.”

  “I don’t really have a bucket list.” He picked up his cocktail.

  “No? Nothing you want to make sure you do before you leave this life and move on to the next?”

  He thought for a second. “You believe there’s a next life?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. I don’t know what it looks like or how we get there, but I like the Buddhist belief in karma.”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I’m not an expert, but my understanding is that Buddhists believe our minds are totally separate from our bodies, and when we die, our consciousness continues to a deeper level. But our minds sort of save up positive actions, which sow the seeds of future happiness when you’re reborn. Negative actions sow the seeds of future suffering.” I shrugged. “That’s karma.”

  “Guess that means I’m fucked in the next life, huh?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop it. You’re a good person. You might have made some questionable decisions in this life, but that’s not the same as being cruel.”

  “Maybe we’ll meet again in the next life.”

  My pulse quickened. “Or maybe we’ve met before.”

  “It would explain a lot of things, wouldn’t it?” He sipped his drink. “So what’s on your bucket list?”

  “Lots of things. Ride a camel in the desert. Stand next to the Sphinx. Dive off a yac
ht into the sea.”

  “Which sea?”

  “I don’t know, I’m not too picky about that. Let’s say the Aegean.”

  “Aegean it is.”

  “But those are more superficial things. I’d really like to make a difference in people’s lives.” I looked down at the tablecloth. “That sounds trite and silly, but I really do want to help people. I teach free yoga classes for seniors at my studio, and I’ve done free programs for kids at low-income schools and in rural areas, but I wish there was something I could do on a broader scale.” I looked up and saw him smiling at me, but it wasn’t patronizing. It was genuine.

  “I bet you’ve helped more people than you realize.”

  Holding my tea in both hands, I shivered. “Got a little chilly up here all of a sudden, didn’t it?”

  Immediately, he set down his glass and took off his jacket. Rising to his feet, he moved behind me and draped it over my shoulders. “Here. Can’t let my prom date be cold.”

  I laughed and set the cup down, pulling the jacket tighter around me. It was warm and smelled like him. I sniffed the collar. “What is this?” I inhaled it again, and all my nether regions tingled. It was subtle and woodsy, manly but not overpowering. “I like it.”

  “It’s called He Wood,” he said with a grin as he sat down again.

  “Of course it is.” I looked down at the corsage on my wrist. “I still can’t get over all this, Dallas.”

  “Good.” He laughed a little. “Your face when you thought I might be trying to take you up to a hotel room was priceless.”

  “I bet. Are you even staying here?”

  “Yes. It’s a nice place.”

  “So when did you decide to do all this?”

  “Today. Your story about missing the prom kinda got to me. I felt bad.”

  “So this is a pity date? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Totally.” He grinned at me, and suddenly I knew how he’d felt the night he hadn’t wanted to say goodbye.

  I didn’t want to do it tonight.

  But you will, said a voice in my head. You have to. This isn’t real, Maren—it’s pretend. Maybe it’s not a pity date, but he did all this to be nice, not because he still has feelings for you. You don’t really have feelings for him, either. You’re just remembering what it was like when you did. And it’s making you feel lonely. But he lives in Portland, you live here, and you’re most likely never going to see each other again. So feel your feels, get your closure, and go home before you do something stupid. You’re strong, but you’re not invincible.

  A moment later, Jason returned with Dallas’s credit card, waited while he signed the check, and told us there was no rush to leave. When he’d gone, I sat back in my chair and sighed, looking out over the city lights. “Dallas, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you for a wonderful night.”

  He looked surprised. “Do you have a curfew or something?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because we haven’t even danced yet.”

  I laughed. “You want to dance with me?”

  “Of course I do. It’s the prom, isn’t it? Grab my phone in my inside jacket pocket.”

  I reached into the pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to him. He searched for something, tapped the screen, and set it on the table. A song began to play, and I gasped. It was “Hey There Delilah,” a song I’d loved back then.

  “You remembered,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat.

  Dallas pushed his chair back, came around to my side of the table, and held out his hand. I took it and stood up, letting the jacket fall from my shoulders. He led me away from the table and slightly closer to the edge of the roof with a full view of the city beneath us. Without a word, he took me in his arms, and it was like home. Warm, safe, solid, familiar. I laid my head on his shoulder and pressed my body close to his. We swayed slowly, much slower than the tempo of the song, but I didn’t care. I wanted to be out of time with the rest of the world, I wanted us to be in a place where past, present, future didn’t exist. There was only us, here in this place, holding on to each other as if we’d never been apart. As if we’d never let go.

  The lump in my throat grew bigger, and I tried hard to hold back the tears. I breathed in and out, attempting to center myself in the moment and simply be grateful for it. But the scent of his skin only made me want the impossible even more. Eventually, a tear fell. And then another. I sniffled.

  Dallas stopped moving and leaned back from the waist. “Hey, you. I told you, there’s no crying at this prom.”

  I laughed and let go of him to wipe my eyes, hoping my mascara hadn’t run. “Sorry. I guess this trip down memory lane has me a little emotional.”

  “It’s this song. It’s sappy as fuck.”

  I poked him on the chest. “Stop it. I still like this song.”

  “I know, but it’s making you sad, and I want to remember you smiling tonight. Let’s do something else. Something fun.”

  “Like what?”

  His eyes lit up in the dark. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “What is it?” I asked suspiciously. Dallas’s ideas could be trouble.

  “You’ll see.” He let go of my waist and took my hand, trying to pull me toward the door. “Come on.”

  “Dallas, my bag!” I cried, laughing as I tried to dig in my heels. “And your jacket and phone.”

  He hurried to the table, grabbed everything, and bolted for the door again.

  “Is this idea of yours even legal?” I asked, trying not to break an ankle hurrying down the stairs in my heels.

  “That’s debatable. But it doesn’t matter, because we’re not going to get caught.”

  I groaned. “You always said that.”

  “And we never did.”

  He was mostly right. As a couple, we’d been lucky—our parents had never walked in on us, a cop had never knocked on the window of his car, the condom had never broken.

  “Okay, we never did, but you did,” I reminded him. “Half the time, I used to think you wanted to get caught, you were so blatant about breaking rules.” We exited the stairwell and headed for the elevators. Dallas kept my hand in his.

  “That’s because I believed that it was more fun to get away with something if everyone knew it was you. Why pull a prank in secret? And I didn’t care about the punishment. It was always worth it.” He hit the button and turned to face me. “Except the last time.”

  I sighed. “Just don’t get me arrested tonight, please.”

  “Relax,” he said as the doors opened.

  “Have you ever been arrested?” I asked as we stepped into the empty elevator.

  He hesitated. “Once.”

  “For what?”

  “I got into a fight with an off-duty cop who was being a real dick to his girlfriend at a bar.” He shook his head. “That night did not end well for me.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “But I promise, you will not end up in handcuffs tonight.” He grinned delightedly and leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “Unless, of course, you’d enjoy that.”

  Heat bloomed at the center of my body and spread to my extremities like a nuclear blast. “Pretty sure that would violate the look-but-don’t-touch policy.”

  He straightened up. “Oh yeah, that. I promised to behave tonight, didn’t I?”

  “You did.” But I gave him a wicked smile.

  “Well, then.” He checked his wristwatch. “Good thing it will be tomorrow soon. Is it true what they say about a prom dress at midnight?”

  I laughed as the doors opened. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Dallas, this is crazy!” I whispered as we ran across the lawn of the huge house on Lake St. Clair where he’d grown up.

  “Shh! Don’t talk until we get to the water,” he whispered back.

  I struggled to keep up with him, although at least I’d ditched my heels in the car after he’d warned me there might be running involved with his idea. H
e’d left his jacket and dress shirt in the car and wore only a white T-shirt with his jeans. He was barefoot, too. The moon shone down on us like a spotlight, and I tried not to think about the signs we’d seen saying PRIVATE PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING.

  “Who lives here now?” I asked as we neared the seawall.

  “No idea.” He pulled me over to where a dock jutted into the water. A small Boston Whaler bobbed in the water next to it, as well as a wooden dinghy, two oars lying on the bottom. “Holy shit, this is perfect.”

  I stopped when he tried to lead me onto the dock. “Dallas, no! We are not stealing a dinghy,” I whispered. “You said we were just going to go night-swimming at your old house like we used to!”

  “We’re not stealing a dinghy—we’re borrowing it.” He looked up at the massive house, which sat back about two hundred feet from the water. “And the house is totally dark. I bet the owners are out of town.”

  I glanced back at the house, too. It did look pretty deserted, but still … could we really take a boat that didn’t belong to us for a spin?

  “Come on.” Dallas tugged on my hand. “Live a little. When’s the last time you misbehaved, goody two shoes?”

  “I can’t remember,” I shot back. “But it was probably with you.”

  He moved closer, so close I felt his breath on my lips. “Then come on. Be bad with me one last time.”

  My insides tightened. The list of ill-advised things I was doing “for old times’ sake” was growing longer by the minute, and I was a bit concerned about where it would ultimately lead.

  Not concerned enough to go home, though.

  “Okay,” I told him. “But if we get caught—”

  “I’ll say I kidnapped you.” He jumped into the boat, steadied himself, and reached up for my waist. “Look at all my tattoos, I’m obviously a pirate,” he said. “Now come on.”

  After I let him lift me into the boat, I took a seat on the bench at the back while Dallas untied the ropes tethering it to the dock. I shivered, although the night was warm and I was slightly sweaty from running.

  The water was relatively calm but my nerves were choppy as hell as Dallas rowed us away from the dock. What on earth were we doing? And tomorrow, would I be okay with it? Would I have the closure I wanted, or would being with him set me back again?