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He scrubbed his face, ignoring the rain that kept on pouring. “Doesn’t matter now. It’s done. Over. I have no feelings for you anymore other than mild annoyance.”
“I know.” I swallowed, but the lump in my throat only grew larger. “I can see you…”
You.
I can see you.
Your pain. Your struggle. Your heartbreak.
You’re wrong. I cared.
Before you were famous. Before you were rich. Before you got into People’s “Sexiest Men Alive” list. Which, by the way, should not have put George Clooney before you. I always cared. You were always so dear to me. Not as a friend. Not as a lover. As Row. The most magnificent man to ever walk the earth.
“Your lips are blue. Let’s get inside.” Row jerked his chin toward the Christmas-decorated door. “It’s Friday. I need all hands on deck at Descartes today. Can’t afford you getting sick.”
“Liar.” I sniffled, finding glee in my avalanche of emotions. “You just want that free coffee I owe you.”
“You read me like an open book,” he sighed. “In German.”
We jogged inside. The place was full to the brim with locals who sent us judgmental looks behind the rims of their coffee cups. Ignoring them, Row collapsed into the only red vinyl booth available. I slid into the seat opposite to him. We were both soaked to the bone.
“Stop looking so happy. You’re ruining my day. And my appetite.” He craned his neck, trying to catch the attention of one of the servers floating between curved booths.
“Can’t help myself.” I squished my cheeks, grinning. “This is not an ego stroke. This is an ego…masturbation. You were kind of my Brain Boyfriend.”
“Brain Boyfriend?” He tilted a thick eyebrow, instinctively wiping the table clean, like it was his restaurant. “As opposed to…Ass Boyfriend? Because that sounds like more my speed.”
“A Brain Boyfriend is the guy that you make movies about in your head. You play-stage dates and vacations and romantic getaways. Like, daydreaming. Before I went to bed, I would play our meet-cute in my head and fall asleep imagining what it would be like.”
It had been a very safe way for me to imagine what a relationship would be like without actually participating in one. I wasn’t asexual. I liked dicks. With my entire heart and my whole vagina. I was just wary of the people attached to them.
“Meet-cute?” He frowned. “But we’d already met.”
“In my dreams, I was someone else. Someone new.”
“Ah, the irony.” He sat back, folding his arms. “In my dreams, you were you. Did Dream Row at least get some NC-17 action?”
“There were a few notable moments.” I coyly collected my wet hair into a high bun. “One of them on a washing machine, even.”
“Were they as traumatic as the real thing?”
“I mean, in one of them I put a red shirt in a cycle full of whites.” I flicked a balled-up straw wrapper his way. “What do you think?”
His lips twitched, fighting a smile, but it broke loose anyway. Oh my. A smiling Ambrose Casablancas could light up the world better than the rising sun. “What other brainy dreams did you make up to avoid the real thing, Dot?”
“Oh…too many to count.” I absentmindedly flipped through the song list of the little jukebox. “Dream job, ultimate kiss, apartment…I can pretty much imagine anything if I put my mind to it.” I tapped my temple. “This baby is all free, and inside it, I’m living my best life.”
“It also doesn’t require you to lift a finger, fail, get burned. You’re missing out on all the real things.”
“Reality is never as good as the dream.” I shrugged. “Why try?”
“Reality is better,” he argued. “It’s gritty and three-dimensional. What’s your dream kiss scenario?”
“It keeps changing. But there are a few ingredients that stay the same. Moonlight, music, and a chin tilt.” I paused. “Shouldn’t you be writing this down?” I needed to stop flirting with him, but I was too excited about this new discovery, and I’d just found the perfect distraction to take my mind off the misery of losing Dad.
“No need. My memory has never failed me.” He brushed his thumb over his lower lip, awarding me with an arousal-induced brain aneurysm.
I laughed awkwardly. “Well, I think we had our run. Hey, wait a minute.” I straightened my back, my eyes widening. “Row, I ran.”
