City of the Lost (Rockton 1)

"You didn't think much of me, either."

"Only because I didn't know you."

"Ditto." I shift, getting comfortable against his chest. "I think that's better, though. If it's at-first-sight, what does that mean? Other than that you appreciate what you see? Better to fall for someone once you get to know him."

"So you fell for me?"

His grin returns, and he looks so pleased with himself that I can't resist poking him a little with, "I'm speaking hypothetically. If you fall for someone, it's better if you get to know them first."

I'm teasing, and my tone should give it away, but there's this flash in his eyes, dismay and uncertainty, and he goes still, searching my gaze with that look I know so well, except there's more to it this time. There's worry and there's fear, as he hunts for something specific, not certain he'll find it.

"When I was in high school," I say, "girls always talked about falling for guys. I never understood that. I'd meet someone, and I'd like what I saw, and if he liked what he saw, then it was all good. If he didn't, no big deal--plenty of other guys out there."

"Uh-huh." He nods, but there's this new look in his eyes, one that wants me to stop talking, just please stop talking, because explaining only makes it worse.

"Then, when I got older, friends would talk about more than just girlish crushes and infatuation. They'd talk about really falling for a guy. Meeting someone and it clicks and he's exactly what they want and if they don't win him--don't ever have a chance--they'll never quite get over it."

"Uh-huh."

"I never knew what they meant. I just didn't get it, you know?"

"Uh-huh."

I lean over, put my lips to his ear, and whisper, "I get it now," and pull him into a kiss.

It's later. Significantly later. That zero-to-sixty first time seems to have been enthusiasm rather than preference, and I get a much slower second time around, one that makes me very grateful for those women who'd tak

en the time to tutor him.

Now we're lying on the floor, still in Dalton's living room. The evening chill has settled and when I shiver against him, he rises, saying, "I'll get the fire going."

I shake my head. "I'll start it after you leave."

"I'm not leaving," he says, as he crouches naked in front of the fireplace, which is already prepped and ready to light.

I rise on my elbows. "Will's coming by--"

"And I'll tell him I changed my mind." He lights the fire and returns to lie down with me. "I want to stay here. With you. I can look in the morning, before we leave."

"As much as I'd love to say yes--please--you'll regret it if you don't look tonight."

He makes a face but doesn't argue. We lie there a little longer, but when the knock comes at the door, he says, "Yeah, okay." He starts to rise, then says, "You'll stay here?"

I nod. He passes me my clothes, and I dress. Then I send him into the kitchen to get something to eat while I answer the door.

When Anders comes in, he says, "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine." I glance over my shoulder at the kitchen and lower my voice. "Eric's a little distracted tonight."

Anders chuckles. "I bet he is."

"It's not that. He'll talk to you, and you'll understand more then, but just ... just know that he's not himself. Not as focused as he usually is. I'd appreciate it if you'd..."

"Watch out for him?"

"Please."

"Always."