Waiting for Tom Hanks - Kerry Winfrey Page 0,68

low murmur as I watch his fingers move. “And I respect that. But would it be okay if I—”

His face is so close to mine that it’s no effort at all for me to close the gap between our mouths and press my lips onto his. Both of his hands press into my back, pulling me toward him with urgency. His tongue is in my mouth and, God, we’re in a hallway directly beside bathrooms, but I don’t even care. I’m kissing Drew Danforth. I’m kissing Drew Danforth and he’s beautiful and he’s everything and he’s gone in two days and—

“Oh, God.” I pull away from him and shake my head. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Let’s keep up this streak of unbelievable activity,” Drew says, his eyes on my mouth as he leans in again. I kiss him back and then break away again.

“We are in public!” I whisper-hiss. “By bar restrooms.”

“Well, you have fully scandalized me,” Drew says with the hint of a smile on his face. “I was a good Southern boy before you, Ohio temptress, kissed me in this most sordid of places.”

“Drew!” I slap his arm. “I . . . I . . .”

There are a million things I want to say. That I don’t normally kiss guys in bars. That I’m not looking for a one-night (or two-night, or three-night) stand. That there aren’t a lot of rom-coms about people who live hours away from each other, and even in Sleepless in Seattle we don’t get to see how they work out the logistics of being together. That I don’t even know if he wants to be together, or if I even want to. That kissing him made me almost forget about everything else I wanted to say.

“I should go home,” I say finally. “Before I embarrass myself any further.”

“I don’t consider this embarrassing,” Drew says. “That time you threw coffee on me? A little embarrassing. This? Not so much.”

I look up at him, since he’s a half foot taller than me and he’s leaning over my face, and shake my head. “What are you even doing?”

“Wow, if that’s not obvious, then I’m striking out pretty hard. Maybe this is embarrassing. I’m kissing a pretty girl.”

“Is that a line from a movie?”

“Maybe your problem is that you spent so much time thinking about your past that you didn’t spend any time thinking about your future,” Drew says with sudden passion, then relaxes into a smile. “That’s a line from our movie.”

I give him another small smile. Oh, I like this guy. He’s funny and he’s sweet and he’s a good kisser with a body that makes me want to rub my hands all over it the same way I compulsively need to touch those sequined mermaid pillows when I see them at Target. Why does he have to be a famous actor who’s only in town for a short period of time?

“I’m gonna go,” I say, pushing myself off the wall. I don’t look back at him as I walk toward the bar, because I know if I do I’ll never leave. I’ll just make a new home there by the bathrooms, kissing Drew Danforth and pausing only to eat the occasional buffalo wing.

I find Tommy and say goodbye. He gives me a hug and a pointed, paternal look, reminding me of our conversation from earlier. “You’re a good assistant, Annie. Unlike certain assistants I could name, who left me for underwear models.”

“He says that to all the girls,” says a voice from behind me, and I turn to see Brody.

He gives me a quick hug, says it was nice to work with me, and then says, “Listen, be gentle with Drew, okay?”

I cackle-laugh at that, but he continues giving me a serious look. “Wait, you’re not kidding?”

Brody shrugs and turns to talk to someone else.

I’m grabbing my coat from coat check when Drew appears. “I’m gonna walk you home,” he says, getting his coat as well.

A full-body tingle washes over me. This is a bad idea, or maybe it’s a good one, but all of a sudden I don’t care because I want it to happen. Drew Danforth is walking me home. A beautiful, funny, smart man who kissed me in public is walking me home and maybe this isn’t a romantic comedy and maybe it’s going to end with me being a lot more upset but right now, I just don’t care.

Chapter Seventeen

Drew opens the door for me, and an honest-to-God blizzard

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