Chapter 20
Lucy
“This isn’t real,” I mutter. “This cannot be real.”
“No worries,” Nico insists, and I get the sense that he’s acting calm more for my sake than his own. “Should be fixed in a jiffy, this is just a fluke.”
Of course it’s stuck. Either this is an elaborate ruse all of them like to pull, or I’m hitting a particular streak of bad luck. Or is it good luck?
A slightly maniacal laugh bubbles up from my throat, and I don’t even bother trying the handle myself. “We’re stuck?”
Turning to me, Nico studies me for a moment before holding his palms up, jaw ticking in concern. “Lucy, I can see what this looks like. I swear to you that I would never pull a stunt like this. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Are you okay? Need some water?”
“I’m okay,” I insist, still laughing. Maybe it’s the few sips of champagne I had earlier, or the general silliness of this happening for a third time, but I’m emboldened to put a hand on his arm.
“Seriously, I know you didn’t do this. If you did, you would have made sure the liquor cart was stocked. ”
He pauses, giving me a—what? Impressed or surprised look? Then, he laughs, and his eyes flick down to where my hand is on his skin for a fraction of a second.
“This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to you,” he muses, looking back up at me, and I can see the gears turning in his head. Somehow, I managed to forget the fact that he’d been teasing me earlier about being with Dane.
I didn’t tell him, and I know Dane didn’t, so Nico must have figured it out himself. Which feels dangerous—to let him look at me like this, knowing what he might be able to figure out.
“When he was stuck in his plane,” Nico murmurs, his hand on his chin, eyes sparkling as he puts the pieces together. “You were with him. And let me guess… he was freaking out and trying to act like he wasn’t freaking out?”
“He’s claustrophobic,” I say, crossing my arms, realizing it comes off a touch too defensive the moment the words are out of my mouth.
“I know,” Nico hums, grinning, his gaze flying over my face, “and I bet he needed some comforting, huh? This is what happened with Dane, right?”
I think, but don’t say, And Cole.
Instead of giving myself the opportunity to say something stupid, I step back from him, reclaiming space. Being close to him is making my head feel frothy.
My silence must be all the confirmation he needs, because he lets out another laugh, stalks across the room, opens a small fridge, and pulls out two bottles of water. After handing one to me, he says, “Why, Lucy?”
“What do you mean?” My voice comes out rough, and I take a little sip of the water before sinking down onto one of the comfortable leather couches.
They’re arranged to give a great view of the glass floor, and when I glance back down at it, another shiver runs the length of my spine, down my arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Why Dane? Surely, you have your pick of strapping young men—why choose a decrepit old geezer?”
I want to correct him, to tell him that Dane most certainly is not decrepit, but Nico knows that. He’s just trying to rope my goat, get me to show how much I’m already starting to care about Dane.
Instead of going down that path, I say, “I definitely don’t have my pick of men. I barely even know how to date.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and for some reason, I hear myself going on, telling him more than I mean to, gesturing with the water bottle as I do.
“I had a boyfriend in high school. We did theater together. We never really had time to be alone, my parents were fanatics about that stuff. The one time we managed to get in the back of a car by ourselves… well, he wasn’t that interested. Not just in me, but in girls as a whole.”
“Your mistake was being with a guy from theater,” Nico jokes, running his hand through his hair again.
Ignoring that, I shrug, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing, “When I got to college, I had too much going on to care about dating. College guys always felt so immature to me. And my friend…” I trail off, that familiar tightness settling in my throat like it does any time I think about Frankie.
Nico doesn’t push, but he sinks down into the couch opposite me, his expression shifting as he takes me in. It’s odd to have someone reading me so closely, adjusting to my moods. It must be a lot of work for him to constantly be doing it.
“She was sick,” I manage to get out, clearing my throat and taking another sip of water.
It doesn’t help the feeling. “When she got to college, she knew she was sick.
Prognosis of sixteen months. Her parents wanted her to stay home, try some experimental treatments, but Frankie…
she just wanted to live her life. Like, really live it.
“That first weekend, after orientation but before we moved into the dorm, she took me on an adventure. We snuck into a frat party on Friday, went skydiving on Saturday, and on Sunday we managed to get a spot of tea with the president of the college. It was…” I trail off, thinking about that first weekend together.
The flying feeling of her pushing onto the next thing, and the rush of finally being free of being “good,” getting to say yes, yes, yes.
“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Nico says, quietly, and when I look up at him, it’s with relief.
I nod, “It was. She determined that I would be her bucket bestie, and after that, we spent every second not doing homework but doing something else. One weekend, we flew to Paris, got in a bar fight, and immediately flew home so Frankie could make a final. It was wild. But it was fun. She lived way longer than they thought, and she made it to graduation.”
She was in a wheelchair, having lost function of her legs at that point, but she was still radiant, beaming with a strange burst of energy for the ceremony.
“Being friends with Frankie was the most miraculous thing I’ve ever done.” My voice is small, and I shrug, wiping away tears with the back of my hand. “And she would want me to… have fun. To make the most of my life.”
“So far. The most miraculous thing so far,” Nico challenges, and it reminds me so much of Frankie that I have to laugh. “You know,” he follows, handing me a box of tissues, “Cole lost his sister.”
“Claire?” I ask, heart tightening. He mentioned her briefly while working on the elevator but didn’t say he’d lost her.
It gives me an echo of grief, the faintest feeling of having thought someone was here when they weren’t.
Without thinking, I bring my hand to my heart, and Nico’s eyes track the movement, even as he raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah…” he says, and I realize I’ve given too much away—why would I know the name of Cole’s sister? “That’s right. You and Cole… have met then?”
“We had our own little—” I twirl my finger in the air, as though gesturing to the situation. “At work, the elevator broke down and the doors locked, and we were stuck—”
“I see,” Nico says, his voice low. “So, you’ve gotten to know Dane and Cole? I’m jealous you haven’t taken the same initiative with me.”
Another shiver runs up my spine, and this time, it has nothing to do with the looming water under our feet. “It’s—I didn’t—not with Cole, it was just—”
Swallowing, I close my eyes and continue talking, though I should probably just shut up. “With Dane, it’s not, like, anything. He’s teaching me.”
I don’t open my eyes. Nico’s voice is low, “Teaching you?”
“I’m not that experienced,” I admit, and when I open my eyes, I find Nico’s pupils blown out, his fingers deftly rotating the bottle of water in his hand.
“It’s not like I was saving myself for marriage or anything, but I had a hard time—guys were either turned off by it, or weirdly into it, and it was gross, so I just…
didn’t. And then, with Dane, we were on the plane, and I fell in the shower—”
Nothing I’m saying is making anything better. Clearing my throat, I add, simply, “It’s casual.”
“Right,” Nico nods, sets his water down on the table beside him, uncrosses his legs, and stands. When he walks around my shoulder, I turn my head to keep him in my sights, like he’s a shark circling me. “Casual. A learning experience.”
I clench my thighs together, heart racing, skin prickling with desire.
“You know,” Nico says, from just behind me, out of my line of sight.
Then he’s placing a hand on my shoulder, leaning down, hooking a finger under my chin.
This is like a confirmation to my body, and a little gasp escapes me at the touch.
Eyes dipping down to my lips, Nico says, “I could teach you something, too.”