Knot So Lucky (Destination Love, #1)(55)

My brows draw together as the thoughts start to compound.

Oh shit…we’re severely couply.

I pause at the thought. Turning my head to stare at him, I’m suddenly panicked that I used his razor on my legs this morning and that he was using the homemade shave cream I just made on his face.

That’s couple shit.

Do I like you…too much?

Oh, I’m going to be pissed if I like him too much.

I clear my throat, smiling tightly as he glances at me before I scrunch my face in worry again.

No, I’m overthinking.

But not one of my personalities believes that.

Wait.

No…I’m fine.

He’s Crew. Serial non-monogamist and just that guy I married. We’re just friends who fuck…and also have more fun with each other than we have with other people.

But I could say that about Millie, and I don’t want to date her.

Oh, this war in my head is making me actually feel like there are multiple POVs happening upstairs.

I pull out my phone, typing out a quick text.

Me: What’s the non-emergency number because this isn’t a 911, but it’s still a priority…





Sami: 311





Mills: ha ha nerd. She’s prefacing, not being literal.





Me: I think I like the way he likes me, and I want to like him back that way too.





Sami: Ummmm, what?





Mills: Our girl has a big-ass crush and is worried she wants a boyfriend.





Sami: That was inevitable, Elle…you’re fucking him. Of course, you like him. But the only reason this feels so strong is because it’s got an expiration date. There’s no real commitment. You can lower your guard because you know it’ll end.





Mills: Sam’s preaching facts. There’s comfort in premeditation. *smirk emoji





Me: Okay, serial killer. But you’re right, Sami. I def don’t want a boyfriend. I want a salon and Sunday mimosas with besties without anyone having an opinion.





Me: And tbh if this was real, I wouldn’t be fucking his friends without any conversation about our feelings.





Mills: WHAT!!!!!





Sami: THAT WASN’T THE LEAD IN?!?!?!?!?!?!





I’m smiling at my phone, feeling relieved. They’re right. We’re living in a Utopia. What we have isn’t real. In real life, Crew and I would be fighting about warring schedules, dreams, and destinations. His life is football. Mine is the salon.

This is a vacation, and everybody wants to move to Italy when they visit.

I look up and realize it’s gotten really dark out. As in, no streetlights dark. Whoa. I turn my body toward Crew, doing the thing I’m best at—putting shit out of sight, out of mind.

“So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

He smirks as I say it, and the tires hit gravel, making me tear away from his profile to look out the windshield. Unreasonably tall treescapes litter the sky until, as we drive underneath them, I finally see our destination.

“No way,” I almost shriek.

“Way…” He grins. “Wanna try to guess what movie we’re seeing?”

My eyes volley between the three drive-in movie screens for clues, but I’m coming up empty. I feel like a little kid, leaning forward and looking up through the window. The car slows to a stop, and my eyes are on the back of his head as the teenage girl in the booth smiles back at us.

“Hi, how many?”

“Two for The Hangover Part II.”

I laugh, patting my knees as he glances over at me.

She nods. “Seventeen dollars.”

He hands her a twenty as his eyes meet mine.

“I figured it was time for you to see what happens next.”

My teeth find my bottom lip because the grin on my face is hurting my cheeks. But I’m also caught on that last part of his sentence…what happens next.

All good things come to an end, so I guess it’s not the worst thing to enjoy it while I have it.





twenty-five





“If I give you an inch…I’ll give you eleven back.”





crew


“Stop it.” She laughs, pushing my hand away from between her legs.

God, she’s fucking driving me crazy. We’re an hour into this movie, and I couldn’t give a fuck less about what’s happening. Because I can’t concentrate past the way her lips close around that goddamn straw in her fucking drink. And the fact that her legs look way too good in short shorts.

Not to mention we’re in the back of this truck I bartered for just so I could fuck her in it under the stars.

“Come on. You’re killing me. I’m dying a slow death, and when I’m shipped to the Niners DOA, you’re gonna feel bad.”

She shovels some popcorn into her mouth and grins, shrugging.

I groan and fall sideways into her lap, nuzzling my face directly into her pussy, growling, and she laughs.

Eleanor tugs my hair, making me look up at her as I hug her waist.