Free Dreaming of You by Ethan Day Page A

elbow on his shoulder, and played with his hair.
     
    “I meant you, silly. I don’t get to sit and look at you.”
     
    “Oh well, sucks to be you.”
     
    A seriousness suddenly seemed to come over him. “Explain something to me.”
     
    “Okay…if I can.”
     
    “How is it that I feel so completely at home sitting here with you, like I’ve been doing it all my life? Am I crazy?”
     
    “Well, I can’t speak to your mental capacity, but…it’s fucking scary isn’t it?”
     
    “So I’m not alone, feeling like this?” he asked, flipping on the turn signal.
     
    “No.” I let my head fall back into the seat, feeling the warm sunlight on my face. “I feel like I woke up this morning in someone else’s life, and I have to say…I’m likin’ it a hell of a lot better than my own.”
     
    “Aden, I’m not the kind of guy that really spends very much time catering to my own individual wants and needs. Yeah, the restaurant is mine, so the work I put into it benefits me, but outside of that, I don’t really take very good care of myself.”
     
    “I understand that, Logan.” Here it comes. I like you, and if you lived in LA, I’d pursue it. But I just don’t have the time.
     
    “I would really like to change that,” he said, looking at me.
     
    I suppressed the urge to ask him exactly what he meant by that. Instead, I smiled at him. “I think that sounds nice.” He reached over and ran the back of his hand over my cheek. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate on the sensation so that when this was all over, I’d be able to remember the way it felt.
    * * * * *
     
    I ended up spending the rest of the week with Logan. We pretty much ditched the convention, and he took me all over Atlanta, showing me all his old haunts. One night he took me to his old high school, where we broke into the football stadium and walked across the football field holding hands and talking. It was there he made one of my fantasies come true when I sucked him off under the bleachers. Between the meals, which included Nathan plus one more with Logan’s mother, and sightseeing, we had sex, lots and lots of sex. I was making up for lost time, and he seemed more than happy to oblige. By the end of the week, the feelings I’d developed for him, whether real or something I was inventing to make what I was doing okay in my own mind, were pretty strong. I felt as if I were floating several inches off the ground when I was with him. The whole week took on a kind of romantic-movielike atmosphere. It was really only Nathan’s presence that made me realize it was actually happening and not some type of psychosomatic delusion.
     
    At the end of the week, Logan took Nathan and me to the airport. As I was beginning to head for the metal detectors, he yanked me back and gave me the softest, sexiest kiss. He pulled away, looked me directly in the eyes, and told me, “This isn’t over, you know. We aren’t done. This week was only a beginning.” I wanted to believe him, but that annoying little voice in the back of my head was saying, Don’t count on it, honey.

Chapter Five
     
     
     
    Carrie took the dinner plate out of my way, cleared all the extra stuff, silverware and bread plate, then pulled out her crumber and scraped it along the tablecloth, scooping up my mess. Feeling stuffed to the point of being sick, I leaned back into the seat. Carrie sat a brandy snifter of B & B in front of me. I looked up at her, and she pointed to Nathan, who looked at me, smiled, and gave me a wink.
     
    “Thanks, Nathan.” I was laughing at his now-obvious intoxication. His cheeks always got a little flushed when he was drunk.
     
    “You’re welcome, gorgeous,” he said.
     
    “You two are going to make me puke”—Finn ran her hand over her tummy—“which at this point wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. I feel like I’m going to pop right out of this dress.”
     
    “I know.” I took a sip of B & B. “Bring on the