“Good. I’d be fiercely jealous if it did.” He kisses me once more, chastely, then swats my ass. “Now get back to your side of the counter so I can calm down before I walk out of here. I still need to pay my tuition, too.”
“Oh yeah. Let’s do that.” I unwrap my legs from him and scoot back to my place. “Do you have an invoice?”
“I didn’t bring it with me. Can you look it up?”
“Of course.” I turn to my computer screen, about to type in his name when I remember that I don’t know it. Not his real name.
He’s one step ahead of me. “Last name, Johnson.”
“Johnson? But that’s—” a great porn name, I start to say, but he cuts me off.
“First name, Dwayne.”
I’d always known he was embarrassed by his real name, and I always thought I’d be considerate and respectful when I finally learned what it was, but I can’t help myself. I laugh. “Your name is Dwayne Johnson? Like, The Rock?”
“I’m changing it legally, I swear.”
“Do I have to call you Dwayne now?” I’m still laughing as I pull up his account. “Because I just don’t know if I can—” I have to pause until I can gather myself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I’m not really sorry. Not at all. “I’ll get used to it. I promise.”
“You can just keep calling me Logan, thank you very much.”
“Uh huh. We’ll see.” It’s too good to not to use it for as long as it’s entertaining. And I have a feeling it will be entertaining for quite some time—at least to me.
It’s only a few minutes before I’ve swiped Logan’s credit card, applied the payment to his account, and stamped his receipt Paid in Full. Purposefully, I brush my fingers against his as I hand him the printout. I shiver from the spark of electricity that passes through us.
So maybe we’re no longer pornographic performers, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still have the chemistry.
Logan folds his receipt and stuffs it in his pocket with his wallet. “What time are you out of here?”
“Four-thirty.” I glance at the clock on the wall. A whole hour from now.
Logan/Dwayne nods.
A beat passes, and I can tell that he’s as unsure of what happens next as I am. As reluctant to leave as I am to let him.
After a minute, he pops the question. “Dinner later?”
“We both know what you’re really asking. And the answer is yes.”
He backs away from the counter, his eyes still on me. “Hope you’re hungry. Because I have quite an appetite.”
“I remember. I think about it a lot, actually.”
He groans. “You’re killing me, Cass.” He pauses at the door to adjust himself. “I love you,” he mouths.
And I know he does. Maybe even as much as I love him. But I’m not Cass right now. I’m not Layla, and he’s not Majnun. We aren’t star-crossed lovers who wish for each other across the sky. I’m Devi, and he’s Logan (er, Dwayne), and what we have is real and grounded.
I blow him a kiss, and even though I wish he weren’t leaving, I’m confident that we’ll have plenty of time to make up for the time we spent apart.
When he’s gone, Jake appears almost instantly. “Who on earth was that fine piece of manhood?”
“My boyfriend,” I answer like it’s no big deal that I’m dating the most amazing guy in the world. “His name is Dwayne.” Somehow I manage to not laugh this time.
“Lucky, lucky girl.” Jake lets out a dreamy sigh. Then he leans in and whispers, “I hope you don’t mind me telling you this, but Dwayne looks exactly like this—don’t judge me for knowing this—a porn star. Logan O’Toole. He’s over-the-top sexy. Totally to die for.”
I bite back my smile. “Oh really?”
“Can you imagine what that would be like? Dating a guy who does porn for a living?” Jake practically swoons at the idea. “The things a man like that could do!”
I shrug my shoulder dismissively. “Plenty, I’m sure.”
I don’t tell him that I’m more than sure of what a man like that can do. Or that I don’t have to imagine what it would be like. I don’t tell him that a porn star boyfriend is only hot for about five minutes. I don’t tell him that Logan O’Toole is much more than just a sex symbol or a status or a “fine piece of manhood.”
I let Jake keep his fantasy. He and the rest of the world can have Logan O’Toole. I get to have the real thing.
Epilogue
Four Years Later
“Dwayne, no! Someone will see.”
“I better not need to remind you,” I say, pressing Devi up against the outside wall of the Frank Erwin Center, “that my legal name is actually Logan now.”
“I thought Dwayne would get your attention more,” she says but her voice fades into a distracted mumble as I finally manage to slide my hands up her billowing graduation gown and start thumbing at her nipples through her dress. Austin doesn’t get freezing in December, but it’s definitely colder than it would be in L.A., and Devi’s got the goose bumps and stiff nipples to prove it.
I’m determined to warm her up.
“Logan, stop,” she giggles as I started nibbling on her neck. I hear people walking and talking behind me as they leave the ceremony and go off to find their cars, but I don’t care. I’ve been desperate to touch my sexy graduate all morning, and I not only had to sit through one graduation ceremony but two, and now that we’ve finally escaped the crowd and our parents, I can’t wait a minute longer.