our night at Journeys. I loved seeing her like this, so carefree and happy. I also liked that she was still wearing my hat and jacket. She looked distractingly adorable in my clothes and it was wreaking havoc on my nerves.
“You’re doing it again,” she warned.
“What?”
“You’re smirking at me.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t think I like the mischievous twinkle in your eyes. It means you’re scheming.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I’m definitely scheming how to get you to kiss me like that again.”
I could practically feel the temperature in the car rise as Layne’s cheeks burned. “That was a victory kiss.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I feel I should tell you, if this is your way to incentivize me to plan more victorious moments, it’s working.” She laughed, and I shook my head. “And here I thought I was the kissing tutor.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I think I just got carried away in the moment.”
“Don’t apologize.” I said, giving her fidgeting hands a squeeze. “Tonight was a victory.”
“Thank you,” she said, returning my squeeze. “For everything.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Everything? Even the kiss?” I couldn’t help myself. She was just so cute when she was flustered.
“It was a pretty great kiss,” she said, surprising me. But then she added, “In terms of research, of course.”
I grinned. “Of course.”
“So, what do you want to do for the rest of the night?” Layne asked, deftly changing the subject.
“It’s your night, diva.”
“Am I a totally lame diva if I just want to watch a movie? I’m exhausted.”
“Already bored of your fame?” I teased, shaking my head. “No, I think that makes you a true diva.”
“I’m so not a diva, and it’s never been about fame for me.”
“Really?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Yeah. I mean, every musician wants fame, don’t they?”
“Not me.”
“Alright, I’ll bite, if it’s not fame, then what do you want?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I just want to make my mark.”
“Isn’t that the same thing as fame?”
“No. Being famous is all about being celebrated and well-known. I don’t need that. I just want to know that I made a difference in the world, that my existence meant something, ya know? Having my music mean something would mean I meant something. Like, I was here, world. I’m not forgettable.” Layne laughed uncomfortably. “I know, it sounds silly when I say it out loud.”
“I don’t think it sounds silly at all.” I swallowed thickly. After a moment I asked, “What makes you think you’re forgettable?”
She shrugged and looked down, picking at a thread on her jeans. “My dad,” she said softly. I watched her throat bob as she swallowed back her emotions. “He had no trouble forgetting me.”
“I see.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter, fighting the flash of anger I felt for a man I’d never met. “Well, don’t make the world suffer for one blind man’s mistakes.”
Layne huffed a quiet laugh. “Thanks.”
I pulled to a stop at a red light and turned to face her, taking her hand so she’d look at me. “I mean it, Layne. I don’t even know the bloke, but I know he’s daft, because you’re probably the most unforgettable girl I’ve ever met.”
I watched her face brighten with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. Thankfully, the light turned green and I shifted my eyes back to the road. I was glad I had driving to focus on because the way Layne was looking at me made my insides churn.
Had I really just told her that I thought she was unforgettable?
I mean, she was. Everything about her mesmerized me. But this wasn’t real. It was just a fun distraction. It’s what we’d agreed to and I needed to remember that.
Getting attached wouldn’t do either of us any good. Layne was going places and me . . . Well, I wasn’t. And I didn’t need to drag her into my messy life.
My mind scrambled for a way to break the awkward silence between us, but Layne spoke first.
“What about you?” she asked. “What do you want out of life?”
I huffed a laugh. That was the question wasn’t it? “Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t figured that out yet.”
She smiled brightly. “Don’t worry. You will.”
She said it with such confidence I almost believed her. What I wouldn’t give for it to be true. If I knew what I wanted out of life it would be so much easier. I’d certainly be less of a disappointment to my parents. How many times had my father told me I’d been given everything only to throw