2.1

(Eleven hours till departure.)

I stifle a yawn as I thank my Uber driver and make my way into the Los Angeles Airport, bags in hand. Blearily, I blink in confusion. Why the hell are there so many people here? LAX is packed.

Aren't these 6 AM flights supposed to be less hectic? The Starbucks just outside of the TSA is just as crowded. I whimper in pain when I see the line wrapped around the corner. Damn, so much for getting a latte to help wake me up. I need coffee like I need air.

Unfortunately, as much as I want to wait, it's more important to get past security and find my terminal first. I give a mournful look to the green and white siren beckoning me forward, and send up a silent prayer to the coffee gods. I'll buy one as soon as I'm settled and my bags are checked in.

Thirty minutes later, I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder and finally make my way to my terminal before checking my phone with a smile. I have plenty of time to wait in line and get some much-needed caffeine. Luck must be on my side, because I easily find another Starbucks. The line is just as crazy, but people seem to be moving. I'm halfway through the line, minding my own business, when I see… him.

Dylan O'Connor. My best friend's brother. The man I crushed on for years. I'd recognize that familiar head of sandy blond curls anywhere. Handsome Dylan, with his piercing hazel eyes and broad shoulders.

A memory from last year flickers to life. Us chatting and laughing in the car as we drove closer to the Olivia Cove Pride Parade. Dylan and I marveled over our similar taste in music, despite our age gap. After we cleared the air, we had a lot of fun bantering. There was something there between us. I felt a spark, one I tried to ignore because I thought he was straight.

Dylan walks toward me, and I let out an undignified squawk.

"Oh shit," I gasp, ducking behind the woman in front of me. He's only ten feet away, almost close enough to touch. Dylan is even more devastatingly handsome than he was last year. Did he get more chiseled? He's talking into his phone while rolling a small suitcase behind him. The way his jeans and a fitted black tee hug his muscles is practically obscene.

I swallow hard, almost trembling in my hiding spot. I will not jump the man. I will not jump the man. I chant silently in my head.

As if the universe is torturing me with the pure deliciousness of Dylan freaking O'Connor, he pauses to throw his head back and laugh. His Adam's apple bobs, and I blink. Apparently, the person he's chatting with is telling the world's funniest joke.

Dylan hasn't noticed the crazy guy huddling behind some woman's oversized purse, and I want to keep it that way. I crouch lower, then pretend to fiddle with the zipper of my carry on. There's no way in hell I'm getting out of this line.

"No, Remy. I just got here." Dylan's tone is rich and warm. Inviting. He has a deep, slightly rough voice that has a unique way of making me melt. His voice is more like a siren's call than my damn Starbucks coffee. It's no wonder he's a radio show host.

"I'm kind of bummed you couldn't go on vacation with me," he continues.

Okay, who the hell is this Remy person?

"Excuse me, sir." An older gentleman in a Hawaiian shirt taps my shoulder with a quick jab. "The line is moving."

Sure enough, everyone ahead of me shifts forward, leaving a huge gap between me and the woman with the large bag. Dylan glances my way and spots me in a half squat. My heart pounds when his whole face lights up. Oh crap.

Heat floods my cheeks as I stand and shuffle forward in line. There's no point in trying to hide. Not now that I've been caught.

Dylan speaks into the phone, his eye contact never dropping. "Oh, uh, Rem? I gotta go." Dylan turns away slightly. I'm briefly tempted to run away while he isn't looking, but I stay put. Damn you, coffee for being so delicious.

Dylan pockets his phone and closes the distance between us.

"Hey there, Noah," Dylan purrs.

Fuuuck, if I wasn't in public, I'd be tempted to readjust myself in my pants. Instead, I shift my shoulder bag so it's blocking my groin. How does Dylan still have this effect on me?

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

Dylan smirks, his gaze traveling up my body before pausing on my messenger bag. "I'm assuming I'm here for the same reason you are."

My lips turn down at his reply. Fine, he didn't have to tell me where he was going if he didn't want to.

"It's actually kind of funny that I ran into you here. I've been meaning to reach out to you."

"You have my number. Nothing's stopping you," I quip.

The line shuffles forward again. There are only two people ahead of me until I can order. Suddenly, I'm eager to get my latte and leave. Why would Dylan want to talk? We've avoided each other since that crazy night I dubbed ‘Throne Night.' It's a memory I both wish I could erase and treasure forever.

I check the time again. My eyes widen when I realize it's fifteen minutes till boarding. Thank god my terminal isn't far, but if I wasted my time and don't get a coffee, I'm going to be pissed.

Dylan's phone beeps in his pocket. He pulls it out and eyes his notification. "Crap, I gotta go. That's my plane. Can we talk soon?"

"Like I said, you have my number." I step forward. Almost there, coffee, my love.

"Yeah, well, the last few times I tried texting you, they were left on read."

Okay, yeah. That's fair. But what the hell do you say to your straight crush after you've seen them in such a compromising position with another man?

I actually avoided Jules too, afraid I would accidentally say something. I'm still not sure if that night was the first time Dylan hooked up with a man, or if it was a one-off. And if it wasn't a one-off, then what did that mean for my crush?

It meant that Dylan has always and will always see me as his little brother's best friend. Nothing less, and never nothing more.

"What's this about, Dylan?"

He glances back at his phone. "I'm sorry, Noah. They're boarding my section. But I'll see you soon, okay? I just moved to Olivia Cove and could use a friend."

Moved? Friend?

I blink. I'm pretty sure I nod too. It isn't until it's time for me to order my coffee do I realize Dylan left while I was spacing out, cycling the words ‘moved' and ‘friend' over and over again in my head. Olivia Cove was my safe space. My place where I can avoid all feelings I may or may not have for Dylan.

Holy fucking fiddlesticks.