Chapter Eleven
She’s avoiding me.
I step on the gas and watch the speedometer tick higher and higher and higher. I swerve between the lines of cars on the freeway. The engine rumbles below me, and I sink into the smooth leather as I let the speed carry me and turn the world outside into a blur.
It’s frustrating as hell.
I know for a fact that she went to the apartment a bunch of times last week, and not once did she come in to see me.
She knew I was there; knew I was grinding. I wasn’t even streaming, so she could’ve come into my room without interrupting. But no. She came up to check on Jackson and just left me a new supply of energy drinks from our sponsor.
My chest aches with the pain that has been present all week. The very same pain I tried to douse with champagne and cars and games.
It isn’t going away.
I went to Suzuka and didn’t hear a peep from Syd. She normally tracks me like a bloodhound and sends me little reminders to “behave myself” and “not make her job harder.” I even made a point of posting a bunch of videos to my stories, at the clubs with the drivers after the grand prix—there was even one of me drinking from an ice luge—and she still didn’t say anything.
I’d heard from Aleks nonstop though. He was chafed that I didn’t bring him along and wouldn’t stop bugging me for photos until I told him I’d bring him to the Vegas race.
The GPS signals my final turn, and I swing into an open parking spot a few doors down from the restaurant. I pull down the visor and touch up my hair before pocketing my phone and lifting the scissor door. Once I’m standing in the warm September sun, I take a second to admire the way my new car shines in the light.
The Lamborghini Revuelto arrived while I was in Japan, and she is a beauty. I’d even gotten it a custom aqua color, which had tacked on a solid chunk of extra change to the already hefty price tag, but I have no regrets. It is hands down the best car I have in the States, reaching sixty miles per hour in under three seconds.
Aleks is going to nut when he sees it.
I shove my hands into my pant pockets as I stroll up to the restaurant, the smell of fresh pizza and pasta permeating the air.
Quiet determination thrums in my blood as I bypass the host desk entirely and walk right into the belly, scanning the tables.
I spot that recognizable head of blonde hair and smile, proud of myself. The mere sight of her after a week causes desire to curl under my skin. That is until I notice the obviously male figure she is seated in front of.
Thick jealously stirs in my stomach when I see Sydney laughing alongside the guy.
Syd locks eyes with me, and a flash of panic has her gaze darting from me to the man and back. My jaw ticks.
Who the hell is she with?
I’m a few tables away when I recognize the guy.
Fuck.
It’s Justin Rivera.
Without drawing attention to myself, I alter my course and slip into an empty chair at a nearby table. It’s not close enough to hear their conversation, but at least if Justin looks around, he’ll have a hard time seeing me.
This isn’t exactly going to plan.
Then again, I didn’t really have a concrete plan in the first place.
Sydney has already regained her composure and is chatting away with Justin.
My curiosity bubbles. Syd wouldn’t just take a meeting with Justin for no reason. He’s one of the few reporters I’m actually wary of. It costs a lot—and I mean a lot—of money to stop him from running a story. Most of the time, it’s cheaper to deal with the fall out than to prevent it, even for me.
Sydney takes a sip of her drink, her lips closing around the straw, and I have flashbacks to the other night. Those lips closing around my own and sucking on them. Her tongue tangling with mine in pure sweetness.
God dammit. I would give anything to taste her again.
If all I can get are a handful of forbidden kisses and stolen touches, then at least it’s something.
Selfishly, I want her to give me more.
I just don’t know how to convince her. I don’t know how to get her to move forward, to give me more than five minutes.
What I know is that the want I’ve had for her hasn’t lessened since the day we met. In fact, I’m beginning to realize that it’s just gotten stronger and I’m falling deeper and deeper for a woman who wants me and wants nothing to do me with me at the same time. A woman who will only grant me a stolen kiss before icing me out.
And that’s what I’m most afraid of. I’m scared that she’s going to retreat further into her icy shell and I’m going to lose any hope at having her take my hand.
“Sir, excuse me, but you can’t sit here. This table is reserved for a party of two arriving shortly.” The waitress pulls me out of my memories and gives me an apologetic smile as she points to the “reserved” placard on my table.
Seriously? There are no other open tables.
I flick my eyes over to Sydney and Justin, who are still locked deep in conversation, a silent battle on both their faces. I open the wine menu and point to the most expensive bottle of champagne.
“I’ll take this.”
The woman’s brows turn down in confusion. “Um. I…I said the table was reserved.”
“I know, and I said I’d order this four-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne.”
I deliver the line with a very fake, closed-lip smile. The kind that borders the line of asshole and privileged.
She blinks at me like a robot rebooting before snatching up the placard with a smile. “Of course, I’ll bring it right out.”
The waitress come scurrying back out and brandishes the bottle with a flourish before popping it.
The noise resounds through the restaurant. I curse under my breath, turning my head to the side and shifting my chair so I’m obscured by the waitress. She pours me a glass with a smile. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you,” I wave her off, my hand coming up to play with the hoops in my ear nervously.
When she moves away, she reveals the promise of murder in Sydney’s gaze from across the restaurant.
Yeah, this really isn’t going to plan.
Although, contempt is better than indifference. I’d rather her want to cut off my dick than want nothing to do with it. I’ll take the win where I can at this point.
I raise the flute of champagne to my lips, watching them as I sip. It’s not bad; the honeysuckle sweetness bubbles on the tongue, but it’s definitely overpriced. I could buy three of these directly from my seller for the same cost.
But the price is nothing when it gives me a chance at Sydney.
Whenever Justin takes a sip of his coffee, Syd’s gaze strays to me briefly and her anxiety oozes out. It’s enough of a sign that whatever conversation she’s having with Justin isn’t a great one.
It means one of us fucked up.
I run back through everything I did in Japan, but nothing sticks out as overtly problematic, and I mentally pat myself on the back. I don’t try to make her life harder, but sometimes life happens and the next thing you know, you’re streaking nude through the garden of the Skaugum Estate.
Two glasses of champagne, a complimentary bread bowl, and five rounds of the MMO game I play on my phone later, I finally catch movement at Syd’s table again.
She stands up and straightens her skirt before grabbing the matching jacket from the back of her chair and slipping it on. Justin follows suit and brandishes his elbow for Syd to hold onto. She quirks her brow at him but places a dainty hand in the nook. I stop myself from rolling my eyes and instead pick up my menu to hide behind.
“I’m glad we were able to clear everything up,” Justin comments as they get nearer.
Sydney snorts. “You would’ve been delusional to post that rumor, Rivera.”
“Se mezcla un poco la verdad con mucha desinformación,” Justin tsks. “There’s always a little truth, little Sydney.”
“Yeah, the truth is that he’s a pain in my ass.”
“Is that on record?”
“You wish.”
My shoulders slump back after they pass, and I toss the menu back onto the table before taking a healthy gulp of champagne.
A hand slams down on my table and I jerk, tipping way more champagne down my throat than planned and coughing.
“Seriously?”
I look up into Sydney’s furious face.
She aggressively pulls the extra chair at my table back, sending a screeching noise through the restaurant, before dramatically sitting down. She folds her arms across her chest and crosses her legs, the top of her pointed heel grazing my leg in the process. If this were a video game, I would’ve just unlocked the achievement “pissed-off publicist.”
A very hot, very pissed-off publicist.
Yup. There is definitely something wrong with me.
“What are you even doing here, Parker?” Her face is one of unveiled displeasure, but I don’t miss the flicker of anxiety underneath.
“Well, I was enjoying an overly expensive glass of champagne.” I place the flute back on the table.
Her eyelids lower in annoyance. “You’re supposed to be filming gameplay content.”
“I’m going to do it later.”
“You’re streaming later.”
“Later later, then.”
She closes her eyes and brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you because you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you.” Her eyes dart down as she smooths out the sleeve of her jacket.
“Rubbish.” I scoot my chair to the side and lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. My face levels with hers, and I raise a brow. “I know you, Sydney, and I know you’ve done everything you can to avoid being in the same room as me since—”
“This isn’t the place,” she cuts in with a low hush. Her lips squish together as her eyes flick around the room.
“Fine.” I take out my wallet and drop a bunch of notes on the table. “Then let’s go somewhere else.”
I stand up and hold my hand out to her. She ignores it and strides out of the restaurant ahead of me.
“This is going great,” I mutter under my breath before strolling after her.
She’s turning to ice, freezing more and more by the second.
Will I be able to thaw her before it’s too late?
“Come on, I’ll drive us.” I press the button on my car keys to open the scissor doors.
“New car?” Her voice holds a little less animosity as she eyes it warily.
“You bet. A ‘24 Revuelto.” I give the roof a tap before swinging onto the custom obsidian leather and running my hands over the steering wheel. God, she’s a beauty.
Syd slips into the passenger seat and buckles her seat belt. “You say that like I’m supposed to understand what it means.”
“Good car. Expensive car. Go very fast. Very nice,” I say in a caveman tone as I start up the engine and begin pulling out of the spot.
She huffs out a little laugh, the corner of her lips twitching up in the smallest of smiles as she rolls her eyes.
Thank God.
Her tiny smile turns into a screech as I hit the main road and switch from the electric mode to sport mode on the car and rev it, increasing my speed by the second.
“Parker Covington, I do not need another heart attack today.”
“Come on, Syd, live a little.”
“Parker, I’m serious. Slow down. I saw that champagne bottle on your table.”
“All right, all right.” I ease off the gas pedal, not wanting to upset her. “In my defense, I’m well within the legal limit. I barely touched the champagne even though I paid out the ass for it.”
“Then why’d you even buy it?” she mutters, looking out the window to the ocean.
There’s something off about her tone, but I don’t push it. Not yet. Pushing Syd to open up normally results in her doubling down. She’s like those sea creatures with the little tentacles that, when you poke them, close in on themselves.
“Because they wouldn’t let me stay in the restaurant otherwise.” I shrug.
“How’d you even know I was there?”
“Phone tracker.”
Her head whips to me. “What the hell, Parker?”
“What? You do it to us all the time.”
“That’s different,” she defends.
“Not really.” I reach forward and fiddle with the map on the digital monitor to make sure I’m headed the right way. “What were you meeting Justin about anyway?”
“Oh. That.” Her eyes narrow with irritation and her entire mood dips like she was dunked in ice water.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Except you did.” She points an accusatory finger at me. “You joked to that waitress in the airport lounge that I was your girlfriend, and she took a photo of us and sent it to Gamer Weekly in an exclusive.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, ‘oh.’” She flops back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “And then he tracked down more pictures of us snapped throughout the airport when we touched down in Colorado with your arm slung all over me. The whole thing didn’t look good when pieced together. You’re lucky it was an easy story to kill because Justin knows you guys, knows me, knows I wouldn’t risk everything to date someone like you.”
Her words lance me like a sharpened blade in my back.
“But he still could have run with it just to mess with us if he felt like it, especially after Aleksander blew off that interview. Everyone has their eyes on you with this upcoming championship. You need to be smarter, Parker.”
My gut churns uncomfortably as nausea mixes with anger.
Nah, fuck this.
This isn’t what I deserve.
I’m not going to let her disguise her panic with poisoned words.
I press on the indicator and speed the car three lanes to the left before pulling into a mostly empty beach car park. I throw the Lambo into park and switch off the engine.
“What are you doing?” Sydney’s head swivels as she looks around us in confusion.
“Having a conversation.” I unbuckle my seat belt and face her. “What’s going on with you?”
“What’re you talking about?” She mimics my movements.
“First, you avoid me. Then, you ice me out. And now? Now, you’re just being mean.” My voice cracks on the last word.
“I…” Hurt flashes through her eyes before they fill with shame. “I didn’t mean to be mean,” she says softly.
“Someone like me? I need to be smarter?” I repeat the words back to her. “Might as well just call me a dumb rich boy like the tabloids.”
Her head drops, her bangs hiding her eyes, and it hurts me to hurt her. Every part of my body is screaming at me to stop talking. To just brush it under the rug and ignore it, like I do when anyone else says the same shit. I’ve dealt with people spewing this sort of stuff to me my entire life, and I hate it, but I accept it because I know it’s not me. Just like I know this is not her. I know it. I’m willing to put myself through the pain, put her through the pain, if it gets us to the truth.
“I thought you knew me better. You’re supposed to be my friend, Syd.”
“I’m supposed to be your publicist.” She looks up at me through her bangs, a slight sheen to her eyes. “I’m supposed to be your publicist, and you’re making it hard for me to remember that.”
“You’ve never been just my publicist, Sydney. You know that.”
“Parker.” Her voice is a silent plea for me to stop, to not push.
But just like the other night, I know that if I don’t cross the line, if I don’t hold my hand out for her to cross into the darkness, she’ll always stay on the safe side. I don’t care if I have to always be the one putting my heart on the line. I don’t care if I have to take the leap first. Not if it means there’s even the smallest chance she’ll follow.
“I’m serious. For years I’ve pretended like there is nothing more to our friendship when there damn well is.”
“It was a mistake.”
My fists clench at her words. “That’s what you said five years ago. Can’t make the same mistake twice, Sydney.”
“Don’t. Don’t go there.”
“No. We’re having this conversation. I let you brush it under the rug last time; I’m not doing that again just because you’re afraid of the truth.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” Sydney fumbles as she tries to open the door, and it takes her a second before she successfully lifts it and shoots out of the car. Surprisingly, she’s careful in closing the door before she stalks off.
I sigh, grabbing my keys and shoving them in my pocket before following her out. Five years ago, I kissed Sydney Lake.
I’d only recently moved to the States for The System, and I ran into her while I was waiting in que for takeaway one night. I was instantly obsessed with the petite blonde; she was so fucking cute and when she laughed, I knew I was a goner. I couldn’t stop myself from offering to walk her out to her car, and after her engine sputtered and failed to start, I convinced her to let me drive her home. It didn’t matter that it was in the opposite direction, I just wanted to spend more time with her. I’ll never forget the shy look she gave me before she pressed her lips to my cheek, or the way her eye widened when I pulled her into a kiss.
Not even eight hours later, Mathias had introduced her as our new publicist.
Aleks had run off our last one, and the gossip columns were already littered with more rumors about the “bad boy of streaming” than he could count. I hadn’t bothered getting involved in the hiring process because I had my own external PR team via my family, who were more than equipped to deal with any of the stupid shit I used to pull.
She acted like she’d never met me before and I’d been forced to play along with her little game because I didn’t want to rock the boat. But now? Now, I was going to tip the whole ship over.
I come to stand behind her as she crosses her arms and stares out at the ocean.
“Sydney.”
“I work for you.”
“That’s a shit excuse, and you know it.”
“It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact.” She turns around, and her eyes blaze into mine.
“Fine, you want to talk facts? We’ll talk facts.” I perch on the short fence separating the parking lot from the sandy beach. It brings me eye level with her, even if it doesn’t feel like the most supportive chunk of wood under my ass. “Fact one, I fancy you. Fact two, we’ve made out. Twice. Fact three, I want to kiss you right now even though you look like you want to drown me in the ocean.” I tap my finger with each statement, and I see her resolve waver each time.
“Fact four, Mathias would fire me for all of that,” she adds.
“Fact five, I can fire Mathias,” I counter.
“You can’t do that.” Her tone softens.
I hop off the fence and come up to her, leaving inches between our chests, and she sucks in a breath. “I like you, Sydney Lake. I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, and I’ve spent the last five years pushing those feelings aside because I care about you, because you drew a line in the sand, and I respected that. But I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m tired of ignoring this thing between us, of playing this forbidden game.”
I lift my hand to cup her jaw. Her eyes shine with a myriad of emotions, and I see her trying to process everything. I see the little wires connecting and buzzing in her mind as she tries to make sense of everything I’ve said.
Her lips part and her breath hitches, the words stuck in her throat. But the panic takes over and she steps out of my touch, bending down to kick off her heels and grabbing them before making a run onto the beach.
This girl has a worse fight-or-flight response than me.
“Seriously, Sydney? Can you stop walking off?” I call out to her. But she’s already meters ahead of me, stalking through the sand.
I look down at my shoes and curse before removing them and rolling up the bottoms of my pants.
The beach is sparingly empty; the nearest people look like little dots in my vision. The wind has picked up, and the afternoon tide pushes and pulls against the sand, rising higher with each crash. Sydney stops right where the coarse pebbly sand turns soft and wet. I come up next to her, letting my feet curl into the cold dampness below.
My confession hangs in the air, but we stand in silence, letting the soft caw of seagulls and the crash of the waves sing around us.
Eventually, she lets out a sigh.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the apartment?”
“Pardon?” I turn my head to her, but she continues to stare out into the horizon.
“My apartment. I’m paying a fraction of the rent.”
“I told you, I got a deal from the owner.”
“You’re the owner.”
Well. Fuck.
How’d she find that out? I’d purchased it through a shell corporation so no one could link it back to me and it would be free of any Covington constraints. I could count on one hand the number of people who knew about it. That’s why it had been so easy to convince Syd to move in.
“Right, that.” I rub the back of neck.
“Parker.” She finally tilts her head to peer up at me with an unamused look, but there’s some warmth hidden underneath, and with that comes hope.
“Look, you were staying in that shitty apartment in a dangerous suburb. I wasn’t going to let you just live somewhere like that when there was something I could do about it.”
Her jaw drops. “It wasn’t that shitty, and the neighborhood wasn’t that dangerous.”
“Sydney, I literally saw someone get robbed outside your apartment that night I dropped you off.”
“Okay, it wasn’t the best area. But I’d just moved here and had no money.” She averts her gaze.
“I know. That’s why I told you there was an open apartment in our complex with a reduced rate, because I knew it was the only way I’d get you to agree. It had already been a chore getting you to trade your deathtrap of a 2005 Volvo for the Tesla, and that only worked because I made Jackson tell you it was a company car.”
“Oh my God,” she whines into her hands. “They were right. It’s not even a company car. I don’t even drive it, Parker!”
“I mean, it is safer having Francis drive you.”
“You’re insane. Why would you stick your neck out so far for me when you barely knew me?”
“Because from the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you, Sydney. I told you, I’ve always liked you. And it might make me a total knobhead, but I wanted to look after you in whatever way I could until you came around.”
A gust of wind sends her hair tumbling around her face, and I reach forward to tuck a loose tendril behind her ear, admiring her beauty. There is a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her button nose, so faint that you can only see them when the sun hits her skin. The cherry scent of her gloss is faint, but it is one I have memorized so keenly that I can recognize it even under the salty ocean spray. It’s a blessing and a curse that I know she tastes the same.
Her fawn-like eyes widen, and I lose myself to the silver sea swirling with hesitation inside.
My Eve has taken a bite of the forbidden fruit and has returned to the garden for another taste, but she’s still wary of the snake within. Everything inside her screams to follow the rules, to act properly, to follow the straight and narrow.
I understand how she feels. I was raised in a family where the world always had eyes on us. Since before I could tie my own shoes, I learnt how to behave in high society and present myself in public. But I never let that stop me from being me, sometimes to a fault.
Sydney wouldn’t even let herself be truthful with herself.
I run my thumb along her jaw and her breath stutters.
“I don’t like you,” she whispers. “Not like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“I can wait, Sydney. I’ve waited five years. All I ask is that you stop denying this.”
It feels like a lifetime passes before she leans into my touch, and I watch as the storm clears from her eyes.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” Her heels drop into the sand as she reaches up to grip the collar of my shirt and closes the distance between us.
Finally, Sydney kisses me.