Chapter Ten - Henry
CHAPTER TEN
Henry
IT’S BEEN A shit day from the start.
I was slow getting out of bed until I heard the sound of breaking glass, and my mind immediately leapt to the possibility of someone breaking in to hurt Mirabelle. She wasn’t in her room when I checked, but it might have been better if someone had broken in than to find her and Quinn in the kitchen together after I specifically asked him to stay away from her. How does that translate to walking around the kitchen shirtless, calling her sweetheart, and offering her rides on his motorcycle? Quick math: it fucking doesn’t.
I think she deserves better than Quinn. In the short time I’ve known him, he’s been a good friend, but I don’t love that the first thing he said about Mira when this shit started was how she’s flexible. He justified it afterward, but it’s still bothering me. Maybe that makes me a possessive asshole, but she’s more than that.
Then my day got worse because I missed a call from my sister while I was in a meeting with Stacey, which Mirabelle wasn’t present for. We haven’t spoken much since the news of our relationship broke, and I hate that. Our parents are probably grilling her, and I don’t want to put her in a position where she has to lie to them.
The real icing on the cake today is I received another call from my birth mother. I declined it, but it’s ignorant of me to assume she’ll get the message to stop calling. I need to come up with something better to call her in my head because she’s not my mother—Penelope is. Penelope has loved and raised me for as long as I can remember.
It feels like I’m discrediting everything Penelope has done for me by calling Allison my mother.
I rack the bar I’m using for bench presses while Wilson spots me. He and Quinn have been cracking Wonder Woman jokes all fucking day since Mirabelle told them that mortifying story this morning.
How the fuck did she even know that? Dad wouldn’t have told her . . . at least, I don’t think he would have. That happened so long ago, I’d forgotten about it.
I pull myself up, and Wilson smirks. “I would have offered to give you a hand, but I’m not Wonder Woman, so I didn’t think you’d want it.”
“Very funny. Your turn, buddy. I hope you don’t need a hand yourself,” I remark back, taking it in stride.
Wilson holds his arm up, flexing to make his pectoral muscle pop out dramatically. “With these guns? No thanks, man,” he replies, laughing quietly. He looks over my shoulder, and I turn to see what he’s looking at, but it only further sours my mood.
Mirabelle and Quinn are chatting, and whatever he said has her head tipped back as she laughs. Mira’s smile is wide, and she looks . . . beautiful. Beautiful is the only word that comes to mind when I look at her.
I haven’t let myself linger too much on this morning. When Quinn was bandaging her hand, I told her to look at me to distract her from the blood. It felt like she was looking into the inner depths of my soul, but I think I liked it?
I certainly like it more when she looks at me instead of Quinn.
Shaking my head, I turn back to Wilson, who is eyeing me knowingly. “You cool with that? I think he’s actually interested in her.”
No, it makes my blood boil, but I can’t explain why. “They’re both adults. As long as they aren’t photographed together, I don’t care.” It feels like a lie, but what else am I supposed to say?
“Whatever you say.” Wilson snorts, clearly not buying my bullshit.
As Mirabelle’s melodic laughter echoes through the room, I can’t keep my eyes from drifting back toward them. Is Quinn actually interested in her, or is he interested in finding out how flexible she is?
As if she can tell I’m watching, Mirabelle looks over at us, smiling at me. Her cheeks are flush with happiness, and I instinctively smile back, pushing Quinn’s motives to the back of my mind.
She turns back to him, saying something quickly before beginning to walk toward us. Selfishly, I take the opportunity to check her out, lingering on those heels she loves to wear, drifting upward to her long, tanned legs to the pencil skirt and blouse she’s wearing. Her light blonde hair is pulled back into a high ponytail on her head, swishing behind her as she walks.
Goddamn.
I didn’t notice earlier what she wore to work today because I was annoyed she told my friends about my love for Wonder Woman, but I think those heels are starting to grow on me. I shouldn’t care what she wears or what shoes she’s wearing, regardless of how amazing they make her legs look. I shouldn’t be wondering what it would be like to wrap my fingers around her ponytail to pull it back so I can see the look on her face— fuck, what is wrong with me?
Mirabelle pulls her ponytail over her shoulder, twisting the strands between her fingers, and I’m jealous. I’m fucking jealous, especially since I have no business thinking about her in that way in the first place. “Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?” she asks, and I look at Wilson to see if he needs me to spot for him. I was lifting light with our first game coming up this weekend, so he should be fine.
“I told you I didn’t need a hand. This is easy, go talk to your girlfriend,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“I hope that bar falls on you.”
Mirabelle hits my arm with the back of her hand, shooting me a look. “That’s mean.”
“So was telling my friends this morning about an embarrassing moment, but you said it anyway,” I grumble under my breath as she laughs at my misery, leaving me to follow after her. Not that I mind, because it gives me the perfect opportunity to look at her ass.
Mirabelle leads us to a quiet corner of the gym, and I quickly wipe away the sweat running down my face using the bottom of my shirt. When I drop it, her face is a flaming shade of red. What the hell is her deal?
“You good?” I question, and she makes a weird, high-pitched sound that I think was supposed to be a laugh.
“Yeah. Perfect, I—uhm—I wanted to ask you about something quick?” she stammers, and it feels like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. It was foolish of me to think that she actually wanted to talk to me about something; instead, Quinn asked her out, and she wants to go out with him. Except, everyone already thinks we’re together. I fucking knew this fake dating thing wasn’t going to work.
“If you want to date Quinn, it’s fine. All I ask is that you guys are careful so no one sees you,” I say, not interested in hearing her gush about how charming my friend is. I don’t want to hear her talk about anyone that way, but especially not Quinn.
Her eyes widen in shock, staring at me in disbelief. “Wait—I’m sorry. What the hell are you talking about?”
After everything today, I’m not sure I have it in me to even pretend to be kind about this.
“It’s obvious that you like him, and vice versa. I’m cool with it, but maybe try not to make it so obvious to other people since, you know, we’re supposed to be dating. ” I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against the wall.
“ Obviou s?” her voice rises in pitch, and I look around to see if anyone is paying attention to us. “Oh my god, Henry. You’re an ass,” Mirabelle hisses at me, in a quieter tone, frowning. “I was going to ask if you were cool with my best friend, Emily, staying a couple nights at the house.”
Huh?
“So this isn’t about Quinn?” I ask, starting to feel like the ass she keeps calling me.
The murderous look she gives me reminds me so much of the one I see her mother give Sebastian sometimes. “No. It’s not about Quinn. Fuck, men are idiots.” Mirabelle scoffs, walking away, but she immediately turns right back around to stand in front of me. She opens her mouth but hesitates before closing it. She frowns again, and I’m staying absolutely silent because clearly, I keep saying the wrong things. I’m a little afraid that the next time I say something, she’ll kick me in the balls instead of telling me what an ass I am. I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Would it really not bother you if I were interested in Quinn?” she asks, and immediately red lights start flashing in my head. She’s told me she doesn’t like it when I give her permission to do things, so I feel like this is a trap she’s trying to catch me in.
I swallow the lump in my throat as she stares at me for my answer. With the added height from her heels, the top of her head is even with my shoulders. It’s the perfect height for me to lean down and brush a kiss over her lips opposed to her cheek.
I don’t want to see Mirabelle with Quinn. This isn’t up to me, though. Our relationship isn’t real, and she’s free to see whoever she wants. Why wouldn’t she want to be with Quinn? He’s closer to her age, they clearly get along, and her parents would be ecstatic because the idea of her dating me is apparently a nightmare.
Still, picturing them together makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
“No, it wouldn’t,” I say calmly, deciding that’s the safe answer instead of telling her how pissed it makes me.
Mirabelle shakes her head, her eyes narrowing as she laughs. Oh shit. That was the wrong answer. “Obvious, my ass. Fuck you, Henry.”
This time when she walks away, she doesn’t turn back.
I roll my shoulders, exhaling sharply as I watch her for a moment, noting the subtle sway of her hips before forcing my gaze to the ground. How can I be angry with Quinn for questioning how flexible she is, when I can’t stop staring at her, thinking thoughts I shouldn’t be.
Wilson laughs when I return, clearly having seen the whole interaction. “For someone who is supposed to be in the honeymoon phase of a relationship, you two don’t look very lovey.”
“We’re going on a date tonight.”
He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Since when? She did not look very happy with you as she stomped away.”
Since now.
We didn’t fuck everything up with her parents for us not to follow through with the plan.
“Shut up,” I grumble, grabbing my phone from the floor. I send a quick text to my assistant who handles my calendar, asking her to get a table at one of the best restaurants in town this evening.
It’s going to be a night we won’t forget.