Wrangled

My arms are around him too, resting at the small of his back. “Yes, of course it does.”

“What kinda feelings you got?”

I stare at his chest. “I’m feeling …” An untimely urge to giggle fills my chest. “I’m feeling deep things. Emotional things.” I lift my eyes to his. “Feelings for you.”

Chad frowns. “Well, ‘course you got feelings for me. I got ‘em for you, too. Isn’t that what’s been happening here all week?”

“Yeah, but—”

“We’re parting ways for a bit, and so you’re freakin’ out.”

“Yes, obviously, but—”

“But we aren’t leavin’ each other. Not really, anyway. See?” He reaches down and squeezes my pocket where my phone is. It’s very close to my dick. “You’re gonna call me. I’ll call you. Hell, we’ll even video chat. We aren’t disappearin’ from each other’s lives.”

“You’re a few inches away from groping me in public.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

I lift my face to his. “What I was trying to say is …”

He kisses me right there, shutting up my words.

He’s never kissed me in public before.

And it’s a deep kiss that grows in strength with every breath. It’s the kind of kiss you do behind bedroom doors.

It’s a kiss that leaves me blushing and breathless.

Well, there goes any plausible deniability about our relationship to anyone who’s absently watching us in this airport lobby.

He lets go and stares down at me. “You got feelings,” he says. “I know. And I got ‘em, too. And I don’t know where the hell I’m gonna put them except in our phone calls, video chats, and my right hand at night.” Before I can react to that, he goes on: “But I guess we’ll have to just figure that out as we go, right? I’m sure not ready to see you go. But it’s just for now.”

I’m still catching my breath from the kiss.

Also, his hands have relocated to the top of my ass.

“And you said I’m holdin’ you like my boyfriend,” he mutters.

I look at him. “You still are.”

“I still am. And maybe that’s ‘cause the idea of it ain’t all that strange to me. Feels fuckin’ natural, actually.” He swallows as he gazes over my face, searching for something. “Feels … perfect.”

I’m never going to be able to say goodbye to him.

Even if none of this past week happened, and he was still just the bully from my childhood, and all I had of him was memories of humiliation and emotionally confusing torment … I would still not be able to let him go.

“What’re you saying, Chad?”

He smiles softly. “I’m sayin’ I wouldn’t mind if we did this. If we tried this. For real. Officially. The actual thing. If I was your …” He finally gets there: “If I was your boyfriend.”

I’m all impulse. I’m all feeling. I’m all heart and no brain. “You want to be my boyfriend, Chad?”

“Yeah. I fuckin’ do.”

“Well, I want to be your boyfriend, too,” I blurt out.

“Yeah? Are we doin’ this?”

“We’re doin’ this.” I smile at him, feeling as light as a birthday balloon set free to the sky. I might even forget the reason I’m here in this airport. “We’re boyfriends. Long-distance or not.”

“I already can’t wait to come see you in LA.”

“I already can’t wait to come back to your stinky ranch.”

He laughs too hard at that, his composure lost, and with teary eyes, he grabs my face and puts another big kiss on my lips.

My insides explode with joy.

Despite the pain that dances with it, knowing I’m about to leave this behind.

This is the best and worst day of my life.

And when it’s all at long last out of our systems, Chad and I share one last look, one last kiss, one last hug, and then we part ways as I head for the TSA.

Just before I cross through to the terminal, Chad shouts at me over the crowd. “You didn’t say it!”

I stop and look back at him, so far away from me. “Say what?” I shout back.

“The words!”

“What words?!” Everyone is watching us, by the way.

“See ya later, sexy!”

My heart jumps. I’m fighting some kind of manic hysteria in my body. I’m ecstatic, happy, and devastated all at once.

I lift a hand in the air, put on a smile, and shout, “See ya later, sexy!”

Chad fist pumps the air like he just won a game. Then he puts his hands right back into his pockets and watches me, a big smile beaming on his face.

That’s the last image I take with me of Chad Landry as I head down the terminal, board the plane, and take my seat.

Staring ahead at the chair in front of me, I still see his bright and beaming face.

A tear drops down my cheek.

I don’t even notice until I lift a finger to flick it away. I’m not crying. I’m going to see him again soon. Maybe right after my show.