The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

I looked back and forth from our waitress to Willow.

“You must realize that most women want to kiss the ground you walk on,” Willow continued. “You’re hot, Dean.” She stated like it was a fact. “And you have that crazy sharp jawline that women can’t help but ooh and ahh over.” She waved her fork at my face.

I reached up and rubbed my face. “My jaw is a jaw.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she laughed. “You better hurry up and eat before your food gets cold.”

“Right.” I drew out the word. I couldn’t believe she’d managed to make me forget about my food, but the thought of our waitress having a crush on me was weird. She could be my grandma.

“You seriously don’t notice, do you?” Willow paused, her fork raised halfway to her mouth.

“Notice what?” I asked around a mouthful of pancake.

“The way women look at you?”

I

shook my head.

She giggled a bit. “I’m going to have to start pointing out the staring and drooling women to you, because seriously it’s insane.” She laughed even harder at a sudden thought. “You’re probably too busy thinking about Pokémon or ‘Doctor Who’ to notice.”

“Both are very important to me.” I agreed. Especially Pokémon.

“Here’s your coffee, sweetheart.”

I quickly grabbed my coffee and spat out a quick, “Thanks,” without making eye contact.

“Are you blushing?” Willow chortled.

I shook my head.

“Oh my God, you totally are!”

“Shut up,” I scolded her when I noticed a few dining patrons turning in our direction. “You’re the one that said she had a crush on me.”

“Oh, Dean. You’re so cute.”

“Cute?” I repeated. Guys did not like to be called cute. Cute was for girls and little kids.

“Would you prefer ruggedly handsome with a jaw chiseled from steel?”

“Yes, yes,” I chanted, snapping my fingers together, “I would much prefer that.”

Willow fought a smile. “You’re one weird guy, but I mean that in the best way.”

I shrugged. I couldn’t argue with her. I was different and proud of it.

We finished our breakfast, and not a crumb was left on any of the plates. Willow was thoroughly grossed out, but she also blew bubbles in my face all day, so I’d say we were even.

We struck out on a few more hotels before finally finding one with a room.

We carried our bags inside and up to the room.

Willow flopped across the bed on her stomach and spread her arms and legs out in a star formation.

“I need to shower,” she said, her voice muffled by the sheets, “but I’m too tired to move.”

“Shower first, then sleep,” I told her, flopping across the bed beside her. “Sharing a bed two nights in a row.” I waggled my brows. “If your dad finds out I’ll never be able to have children. I hope you don’t want any.”