Chapter 22 Stevie #2
Click, click.
I lift a hand to shield my eyes, squinting through the ambush of incessant flashes and strobes. All I hear is my heart. Pounding, hammering. An embarrassing wave of panic slams into me, washing over my chest—exactly what Rudy didn’t want.
But I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t prepared.
Knees wobbling, I reach out for something, for balance, and just as my stiletto twists from under me and I nearly go down, he’s there.
An arm flies out. A warm hand.
Lex is beside me, catching me before I make a further spectacle of myself. He pulls me up to my useless spaghetti legs and steers us forward to the limo.
“Lex!”
“Lexington!”
“Over here!”
I can hardly see through the dizzying lights, but I glance up at his profile, all hard lines and rough edges, his expression stony and even. His left hand grips mine, his right arm tucked around my back, holding me upright.
Adrian takes over and helps me into the limo while Lex and I collapse inside, and the door closes us in.
I can breathe.
Muffled chatter trickles through, the flashbulbs diffused by tinted windows. A moment later, the vehicle jerks forward, and we’re driving away from the chaos.
I press a hand to my chest, stabilizing my off-kilter heart. Lex leans back against the seat, a foot between us, and I study him briefly, taking in his unruffled posture. His composure. He must be so used to this by now.
Swallowing a shaky breath, I dip my head, humiliation edging its way inside me. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“I just…I didn’t mean to—”
“Said it’s fine, Nicks.”
I wring my hands together in my lap, unsure what to say. How to do this, how to be here. How to be me—here. “Um, that was a little crazy. Is that everyday life for you?”
“Most of the time.” He slides me a quick glance. “Luda did good.”
Our eyes catch for a beat, and then he turns away.
I guess that was his way of saying I look nice without giving me a direct compliment. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended. “Thanks.”
Lex pulls out his cell phone and leans forward in the seat. He aimlessly scrolls through an app, not pausing long enough to retain anything.
I fold my arms and rub my lips together.
The silence is thick. Stifling. I want to crack a window, but there are too many buttons back here, and the air outside is sticky with humidity. I’ll suffocate.
My vocal cords tickle, itching to purge meaningless words just to fill the void. “So what am I supposed to do tonight?” I clear my throat, watching as he pockets his phone and drapes an arm over the back of the seat. “It would help if I had a script.”
Lex draws out the quiet for a few seconds before glancing over at me. “I can do the talking. Just follow my cues.”
“Is this supposed to be…um…romantic?” I swallow hard, cheeks flushing. “Are we just friends? Dating? I don’t think I have the full scope of this. It’s all very ambiguous.”
“Don’t overthink it,” he says, giving me a once-over before looking away. “It’s a marketing tactic. Propaganda. The show blew up, and viewers want more. You’re the more.”
“Right.” He’s saying I’m a tool. A puzzle piece for him to maneuver. “Sounds great.”
Another band of silence strains before Lex breathes out a sigh and tips his head back. “I guess I’d be an asshole if I didn’t ask how you were doing.”
Clicking my teeth together, I glance out the window.
As the sun sets, the city is colored in a tangerine glow, blazing like a fire hearth.
“You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not,” I murmur.
Then I realize I just called him an asshole.
My neck burns, the heat climbing and staining my ears. “Sorry. I didn’t—”
“Don’t.”
I twist to look at him. “What?”
“Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to think I’m an asshole. I don’t care.”
My heart sinks a little. “You used to be someone who cared.”
“I used to be a lot of things. So did you. Now we’re different.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, a gesture I refuse to focus on. “So tell me how you’re doing.”
There’s a foot between us, maybe less, but it feels like a cavern.
A huge, hollow hole. I could lie and say I’m wonderful, a picture of contentment, but I never say things I don’t mean.
“Life could be better,” I admit with a shrug.
“My boyfriend cheated on me, so that’s been a…
transition. But it was for the best.” I glance down at my fingernails, at the glossy clear finish tipped with white.
“Jameson. Do you remember him? From school?”
He frowns. “The prick who played the duke?”
“Yeah. He was there during my first surgery for my knee. We started dating after high school.”
Lex hesitates, glances at my leg. “First surgery?”
“I had many. My knee was basically pulverized in the accident, and it took multiple surgeries to reconstruct it.” I shift uncomfortably, the memory still raw.
“There were times I didn’t think I’d ever walk again, let alone dance or perform.
But I’m getting there, and I don’t even have a permanent limp. Just a knee full of metal and scars.”
Carefully, I reach down and tug the skirt of my dress up, showcasing the jigsaw of scarring on my right knee. I tilt it side to side, the ambient mood lighting illuminating the puckered skin.
Lex stares at it, the frown returning between his eyes, adding shadows to his face. He looks like he wants to touch it, graze his fingertips along the evidence of what severed our friendship, but he keeps his hands at his sides and flexes his fingers.
I let go of my dress and let the material splash across my bare legs. “My family is good. I share an apartment with my sister in the city, and my parents live in the same red farmhouse. We still have our cow.”
He listens, but he doesn’t speak. I try to read his micro expressions, but aside from that frown that gave a little away—a spark of life, of inherent reaction—he’s a blank canvas.
“Your turn,” I say.
His eyebrows arch.
“Tell me how you’re doing,” I encourage, eager to learn more. “I saw online that your parents separated a couple years back. I’m sorry.”
“Devastating,” he deadpans.
“Do you still talk to them?”
Sighing, he squirms in the seat, clearly uncomfortable discussing family matters. “My mom, yeah. She’ll be at the gala tonight. Haven’t seen my dad since the divorce.”
I nod, chewing on my lip as another wave of a silence drapes over us. “Um…but how are you really doing? Personally?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lex waves a dismissive hand around the limo, gesturing at the lush interior, the ice bucket of overpriced champagne, and his tailored suit, custom-made for him.
I shake my head. “That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Tells you plenty.”
“I want to know more.” My tone dips to a husky whisper.
“I want to know what changed. Why you changed. Why you left and how you could—” I stop, closing my eyes, trying to summon the right words.
“How you were able to just shut it all off and walk away without a backward glance. Was it worth it?” I wonder softly. “All this?”
Lex studies me, rolling his tongue along his lower lip again, the limo jerking with every dip and pothole. “You really want to do this right now?”
“When else? I’m only here for a day. Then it’s over. You’ll be gone again.”
“Is that why you agreed to come here?” His stare is digging. “For some kind of closure?”
“Maybe.”
“They have therapists for that.”
“Therapists offer coping mechanisms. I’m looking for answers.”
He exhales a hard breath, raking a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Well, I’m not much of a conversationalist, so good luck with that.”
“Text me then.”
Another frown.
“If you can’t say it out loud, write it down.”
A few tense beats roll by. The limo jolts us, sending a spasm to my chest, to my already teetering heart.
Lex swallows, his Adam’s apple rolling as he finds my eyes and says softly, “I already did.”
I blink at him, confused.
And then it hits me.
The show. He’s referring to the show.
I think his response is supposed to enlighten me somehow, fill my soul with answers and warm relief. But it does the opposite. Lightning zaps through me in fiery veins, and I curl my hands in my lap and hold back tears.
That was fiction. Make-believe.
Our story could have had a happy ending.
If he’d stayed.
If he’d tried.
If he’d done anything but walk away.