Chapter 40
FORTY
It was a mistake to come down here early.
The street outside my apartment is quiet, but the nerves and anticipation inside me are loud enough to fill the space.
I can’t help but shift from foot to foot, anxiety buzzing through me as I tug at my top.
Casual, I remind myself, even though that’s a loose definition when it comes to my wardrobe.
My closet is divided into glittery clubwear and ratty clothes, so this outfit was the best I could do—jeans that make my ass look good, a bit of glitter on the top because, well, that’s me, and just enough cleavage to make a point.
I’ve been checking my phone every ten seconds, definitely because of my nerves about the drive. It has nothing to do with seeing Nicholas.
Absolutely nothing to do with him and his stupidly perfect face.
Speaking of perfect faces, Koen’s words echo in my mind then, the calm, steady instructions he gifted me with, repeating them until they finally stuck in my chaotic brain.
“Just focus on breathing. On the now. You’re safe.”
I practice it as I breathe deeply, and my mind has just started to settle when my phone buzzes in my hand with a message from the man himself as if he felt I was thinking about him.
Fucking mentalist.
Koen
How are you holding up?
I stare at the text for a second, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.
Why is he even texting me after last night?
After I spilled my guts, dredged up the worst parts of myself, and then practically threw myself at him. Only to be turned down. I practically melted onto his lap, sobbing my heart out and begging for an escape, and he didn’t want to sleep with me.
He pity finger fucked me.
It was embarrassing. Mortifying, even. I might have found the one straight guy who doesn’t want to fuck me. And, of course, he’s one of the guys I’d really like to fuck.
Still, a part of me knows it was worth it. I mean, yeah, I feel exposed, raw, and embarrassed as hell, but based on the newfound sense of relief I’ve been carrying alongside those emotions ever since my breakdown.
I think I needed to say those things out loud, even if only once.
Koen gets it, maybe not the guilt or the specifics, but he understands the loss, how I’ve been dragging it around like a shadow all these years.
He got me thinking about the other Rosie, though. His Rosie. I’ve been sitting in front of her grave for years, using it as a stand-in, but I never thought about who she was. Or how she died. Just thinking about it puts a heavy weight on my chest.
I should bring her flowers or something.
My phone buzzes again, pulling me out of my thoughts once more.
Koen
Don’t leave me on read, Little Thief.
He isn’t here yet. You don’t have to worry about me.
You know people still worry even if you say don’t worry, right?
Before I can think of a reply, a black Porsche pulls up to the curb.
Of course, he drives a Porsche.
The thing is all dark, glossy curves like it rolled off the set of some action movie or out of a luxury showroom.
Nicholas steps out in a pair of jeans that look as though they were made for him, a fitted shirt that clings to his broad chest and shoulders in all the right places, hair perfectly styled.
We seem to have both gotten the dress code memo of ‘casual but hot.’
The soft light of dusk catches his face, casting shadows over his jaw, and that stupidly perfect smile spreads across his lips as I quickly type out a reply to Koen.
He’s here. Gotta go.
I click off my phone, slipping it into my purse as he approaches, his warm gaze taking me in. My fingers brush against the USB I packed, making sure it’s still there in case this evening ends up at his place after all.
“Hey, you,” he says, stepping in close and wrapping me in a hug like last time—way too comforting.
I pull back, smiling up at him. “Hey, yourself.”
He glances up at my building, taking in the worn brick, maybe even the scratched paint on the door. I wait for the comment, the judgment, but instead, his eyes find mine again, and none of the warmth there has disappeared or changed.
“I’ve been looking forward to tonight.” He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with a careful touch. “You ready?”
I manage a nod, even though my heart is practically pounding out of my chest. “Yes,” I say, but in my head, a tiny, nagging voice whispers, No.
He grins, holding the door open for me as I slide into the passenger seat.
The car is immaculate, like him. My pulse picks up even more, and I feel the urge to grip something, anything, as my nerves start to spill over, so I grip my bracelet.
Koen’s voice returns to my head, reminding me to breathe, and I close my eyes for a moment, focusing on the sensation of the chain and the faint scent of leather.
Nicholas climbs into the driver’s seat, his eyes flicking over to me with a hint of concern. “You good?”
“Of course,” I lie, maybe not so smoothly.
The Porsche purrs as he pulls away from my apartment, weaving through the city lights. The Nova from before would have loved to be in this car. Now, I relax into the seat, pretending that the low hum of the engine doesn’t make me want to puke.
He seems perfectly at ease, one hand on the wheel, his other arm casually resting between us.
“You seem a little…” His eyes soften as he studies me with a quick glance. “Nervous?”
“Maybe a little.” I shrug, forcing my tone to sound casual. “You know… date nerves.”
“Good.” He raises an eyebrow, looking almost relieved, as if he’s been holding something back. “Because I’m nervous as hell.”
“You’re nervous?” I blink. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type.”
His true self might be a little shy, but when it’s only the two of us, I’ve seen his confidence slip through. The last few times we’ve been alone, he seemed surer of himself than I expected.
“Well, I am.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, and it’s so endearing, so unexpectedly boyish. “Sometimes I wonder if I should be more… chill or something. But then I see you, and I realize…” He pauses, his gaze catching mine again. “I like the way I feel around you. I really do.”
My cheeks flush, and I can’t help the small smile that pulls at my lips.
Stop it, Nova.
“Well, I like it, too,” I admit. “Spending time with you, I mean.”
Not sitting in this damn car.
Even if it’s a very, very nice car.
“Then what are we nervous about?” He grins. “We’re here together, right? Maybe we can just… let it be that simple.”
Nothing about this, about us, is simple.
“Fine.” I shake my head with a smile.
“That means you can relax.”
“I am relaxed.” I’m so not.
His gaze lingers, thoughtful, and for a second, I think he’s going to press. But then he says, “All right. I hope you like burgers.”
“I’d love some fries.” I don’t think I can eat a whole damn burger with how my stomach is feeling right now.
“Fries it is.”
We pull up to the drive-through of a little burger joint, the kind of place with checkered floors and a buzzing neon sign. He orders for us, and when he hands me the takeout bag, the warm scent of onion rings and crispy fries fills the car, and I relax somewhat. I can handle this.
Instead of turning back toward the city, he heads in the opposite direction, driving us farther out. “Let’s get out of here, away from the neon lights and the crowd.”
“Okay,” I say, feigning casual, even though my stomach flips.
Of course, why not spend even more time driving?
As we drive, I realize I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. I’m not sure if it’s Nicholas’s presence, Koen’s hypnosis, or that something else settled in me last night. Maybe even something healed a little. Either way, I’ll take it.
The buildings slip away, giving way to open stretches of desert under the growing darkness. The road gets quieter, the city lights fading to a faint glow in the rearview mirror.
“Okay, where exactly are we going?” I ask, casting him a sidelong look. “Are you… a serial killer or something?”
He glances over at me, his expression faux-shocked. “No.”
I raise an eyebrow, giving him a doubtful look. “Isn’t that exactly what a serial killer would say?”
“Fine.” His lips press together as he fights back a smile. “What would someone who isn’t a serial killer say?”
I purse my lips, pretending to think deeply. “Probably… not that, either.”
He laughs, a warm, low sound, and I realize I’m smiling like an idiot.
“Just trust me,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eye. “I promise you’re not about to be the next true crime documentary.”
When he finally stops the car, we’re out on a quiet stretch of desert, far enough that the city lights are a soft glow behind us. He gets out, comes around to open my door, and holds out a hand to help me out.
“Come on,” he invites, nodding up to the wide-open sky. “I come here sometimes when everything’s too much. It sounds dumb, but I enjoy seeing the stars out here, where they’re actually bright.”
“Are you into stars?” I reach into the bag, pulling out a fry and popping it in my mouth as I take in the view, leaning back, the hood of the car warm against my legs.
Nicholas does the same as I offer him the bag. “No, I just like the feeling they give me… like everything’s bigger than all the stuff that weighs me down. We’re on a rock floating in space, you know? Somehow, it makes things… feel lighter.”
The sky is dotted with stars, more of them winking into view as the last bit of light fades. It’s beautiful out here, quiet and peaceful. The kind of place I could stay forever if I could keep that feeling of insignificance tucked away in my pocket.