Chapter 17 #2
I wait patiently, then impatiently, my smile dropping then curving back in place.
“Katarina.”
My smile stays put, tickling the edges of my cheek by double checking to make sure they heard right before painfully settling into a frown.
He picked Katarina.
Austin finishes reading the list, tells them the rules of what’s gonna happen, something about them having picked from the girls’ bucket list, and how they get to decide when to leave and come back today.
Dean didn’t pick me.
Betrayal sinks into my lungs.
Not even adding books to my cart can make me feel better.
“Nova and Rhys,” Austin finally addresses us. The two unmatched pair of the evening. “You are the only ones unmatched for the day, but today’s your lucky day. Rhys and Nova, you’re matched for a date.”
Sounds great to me.
But also , frick me. I need to make better choices.
I turn to look at Rhys, expecting to see a familiar expression of disappointment. Or even a sliver of what may be an oncoming silent treatment, but there’s none of that. He turns his head, tilting it with a boyish smile. “At least we’re together, right? ”
The inner me, the same one who guffaws at cliché lines, is cringing terribly.
But outer me is smiling alongside him. Because screw Dean Vuk and his chronic lying abilities. If he wants to mess me over, then so be it. I’m great with messes. I’m a fan of them. And I don’t back down from cleaning them up and making sure I never have to deal with it again.
His softened glaucous eyes and grumpy behaviour momentarily distracted me from my goal. Consider me undistracted now. I am back in my damn senses.
“Yep, at least we’re together, Mr. Silver.”
Rhys’ dimple deepens in response to my smile.
The heat of Dean’s gaze burns my skin.
I don’t look.
He lost the privilege of my personality the second he shut me out and went back on his word.
Dean looks at me throughout breakfast and when the group decides to spend whatever time we have before our dates in the backyard, he doesn’t look away once.
“Why is it so sunny today?” Hina cowers under the shade. Katarina stands near her with Shaan in between.
Some call their skin tan, I call mine loved by the sun.
I head straight towards the plants. I’ve been checking in on them as much as I can, but it’s hard taking care of them when I can’t let anyone know my true job.
I head straight towards the Jasmine bush.
Mom used to love tying the small flowers into a head crown.
“Should we play a game of twenty questions?” Katarina suggests.
I brush my thumb against the stems, feeling for any abnormality when a shadow crouches down next to me .
“When did you pick up this hobby?” Rhys takes a sip from his water bottle. When he’s done, I steal it from him and pour some in my palm. Then, I let it trickle over dry stems.
“When I was a kid,” I return his bottle. “Just a little stress-releasing activity.”
“Plants and colouring, you’re every mother’s dream daughter-in-law.” Rhys eyes the flowers. “You don’t need to water plants every day, right?”
My ears perk up. “Depends on the plant. But each of them can go a set amount of days without water due to evapotranspiration.”
A look of puzzlement crosses his face.
“Let me explain,” I sit back on my heels.
“It’s the process of water going into the ground and transferring through soil to the roots of plants.
It then travels upwards letting the plant absorb all the nutrients it needs, and when it reaches the very top, the plant releases that water vapour into the atmosphere.
It’s interesting to know how much these beautiful plants play key roles in our ecosystem. If they weren’t here, how would we?—”
“I didn’t notice the lake running around this mountain too,” Rhys notes the water rushing below us. “I should get that checked out to make sure it isn’t a hazard to us.”
I swallow the pinch of hurt scraping against my ribs. He didn’t listen to a single word I said.
“Okay, brain genius.” Hina throws her shoe which hits Rhys in the back.
We turn around at the same time.
She’s covering her mouth to hide a boisterous laugh. “Sorry!”
My smile vanishes when I see Dean awkwardly standing miles away from them.
Him and Katarina should talk about their date. Get to know each other.
If he truly likes her, then I’ll root for him. At the end of the day, we aren’t at Vuk Securities. We can do whatever we want.
He takes a step forward.
“Hey, can I have the girls come inside to pick today’s activity?” Irene peers out through the sliding door.
I’m already up and moving when Dean intercepts midway.
“Nova, can we talk?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I swallow the anger. “What about?” There’s a pip to my voice. A squeak that’s fake, cause he doesn’t deserve me realness.
“Let me explain.”
Three words, when he should’ve been saying two.
“Nothing to explain,” he doesn’t let me through.
More quietly, “They came to?—”
“I said,” I ball my fists. Gritting my teeth. Giving him nothing because he doesn’t deserve my feelings either. “There’s no need to explain, Dean.”
My eyes shift towards the quiet whispering occurring behind him.
Rhys, Shaan, Hina, and Katarina are staring at us intently. Hina raises her brows in quick defence, ready to intervene if she needs to. I don’t respond to it, afraid I’ll spill all the hurt out of me if I start talking.
I stare at the faded scar above Dean’s brow. “Have fun today.” Hope you choke.
“Everything okay, love?” Rhys comes to stand next to me.
Dean’s response is no less than rude. “It’s fine. We’re having a conversation.”
“Actually Rhys,” I look straight into Dean’s questioning emerald stare. “We were done here. ”
With a hand on my lower back, Rhys takes me back into the house.
I turn to glance back at Dean whose jaw is ticking like a bomb.
And that’s enough to make me feel better.
“He’s not bothering you, is he?” I put some distance when Dean’s out of view.
“Hm, what?” I look at Rhys, who’s looking at me looking back. I shake my head. “No, no. Of course not. He’s a good guy.” Is your heart alive? Can it stand the compliment? Should I call an ambulance?
Oh, shut up.
He nods, taking that in. “Your mistakes are yours to make. I respect that. But do you know why he went to prison, Nova?”
“It’s none of my business, Rhys.”
“Exactly,” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “But Dean he…” a sigh. Another sigh. “I know what he did. And it scares me that he’s here with the rest of us when he should still be inside.”
“Rhys,” there’s a warning gleam in my tone. “He served his sentence.”
It’s none of our business why he’s out, what he did, and we’re no one to judge. If we were to count the sins we make, then all of us would have death sentences. Rhys doesn’t get that and sure, maybe it’s because of his job. But it doesn’t give him the right to judge Dean.
“Did he?” He mocks. “He served six out of the ten years. Got out on fucking good behaviour or some crap like that.”
We reach the top of the stairs. “How are you so sure he’s at fault?”
He gives me an are you serious? look. “There’s a shit ton of evidence, Nova. That’s how I know.” Disagreeing with him pisses him off. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
He can foster his man-child behaviour in his room. What is it with the men here? They’re acting like one small comment is going to make them erupt when they’re the ones making stupid, empty promises on their own.
Going home sounds super appealing right now.
“Do you think this makes my boobs look big?” Hina pushes her chest out the second I walk through our room.
“I’ve known you for all of seven days and you’re flashing your boobs at me?” Cue Debby Ryan smirk with a hand on my chest. “I’m honoured.”
She waves my words away. “This is serious. Shaan and I might have a connection and I know how men work. Unleash the tiddies to contain the misogyny.”
I laugh at how blasphemous that sounds. “Very contradictory, but okay.” She’s wearing a leopard print halter top with a mini skirt. Definitely pronouncing the chest. “Boob approved,” I give her a thumbs up.
She smirks. “Perfect, I’m totally gonna win him over.”
“Yeah you are,” I slump into bed while watching her throw her hair in a messy updo. “In the meantime, I shall be trying my best to win Rhys over.” Not even sure if I want to .
“Shit,” her almost-black locks fall from her hands. “I’m being a selfish hoe, aren’t I?”
Some awkward form of waving jazz hands later, “Of course not!”
She narrows her gaze at me through the mirror before plopping the mascara brush back in the bottle. “Fine, but if you decide that you hate my guts then speak up. Don’t let those feelings rot inside.”
I do nothing but beam back. “Got it, Miss Adviser.”
“Hey,” she points at me. “I’m a rebel?—”
A tentative knock.
Katarina peeks her head through the ajar door. “Do you have a video on how to do that hairstyle?” She’s looking at me and my head.
“No, she doesn’t.” Hina interrupts. “Even if she did, she’d rather choke on it than give it to you.”
“That’s not true,” I glare at Hina while shaking my head before looking back at Katarina. “If you want, I can do it for you.”
She’s being vulnerable by stepping through the threshold and shutting the door behind her. Glancing at Hina who doesn’t hide her sigh or the roll of her eyes, she walks towards me. “I can do it myself.”
“I have no doubt,” I’m already taking out the purple gemstones from my hair that now match with her blouse. She drags a vanity stool in front of me and plops down. “Good thing I’m a master at it.”
My fingers start working on instinct.
Soft hair, perfect skin and body. Katarina lacks nothing.
“Where did you learn how to do hair?” She asks.
“Fuck this,” Hina stops applying lip-gloss, putting it back in the tube before slamming the door on her way out.
I’m silently weaving Katarina’s hair together when she exhales, “Has she talked about me?”
“Not in any positive way,” I tie the bottom of her short braid with a lilac ribbon. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what happened?”
She’s not answering. I can respect that.
Then a small button clicks.
Katarina meets my eyes through our reflections and looks down at the mic clipped at my collar.
Oh.
I turn my mic off too.
“We broke up a month ago,” she says quickly but haughtily as if she’s expecting judgement. “I dumped her after she… she told me she loved me.”
Okaaayy , welcome lore dump.
But also? I knew it! They had that back and forth, I hate you but also lowkey-want-you-bad energy going on with them.
“So, both of you being here is a coincidence?” I’m adding the gemstones to her hair. Katarina shakes her head, “I came to win her back.”
“I’m sorry for being a bitch to you during the first week.” The little exhale she releases at the end tells me our previous conversation is over and this is weighing on her mind more.
“You were not—” She gives me a look in the mirror. “Okay, maybe slightly. But I grew up with two older sisters and let me tell you, no one is more beachy than a sister on her period.”
“Beachy?” An amused glance. “Didn’t know swearing was off your vocab.”
Adding the final gemstone, “I don’t make a habit of it. Words that no one knows the meanings of are more my style.”
“I had a feeling,” she turns her head slightly to eye the finished work. “I know you think it’s selfish of me to not want her to move on, but we left a lot unexplained and I?—”
Girls like Katarina are often misunderstood. If she thinks that even for a minute I thought the worst of her, she’s wrong. “Your reasons are your reasons. I liked you from the minute I met you and whatever you’re here for, I hope it works out for the best.”
“You’re really not gonna make me explain?”
I shake my head. “I’ve learned to empathize without knowing the whole truth.” When I was younger, I’d been forced to understand everyone else’s feelings and situations before I got the chance to understand my own. I’m made up of people’s emotions that there’s no energy left for me.
Sometimes I think my frontal lobe is already developed.
“Thanks.” Katarina runs her fingers down the braid. “You’re good at this. ”
Admiring my work, “Rosa—my sister—she used to be the hairstylist in the family before she took on a career digging through people’s hearts.”
Katarina’s eyes widen.
“She’s a cardiologist,” I clarify. “This and blowouts are the only hairstyles I can do.” Need anything else from me? Oops, there goes my talents. It does eventually end.
“Ever thought of making this a career other than your little editing job?”
“You mean my little flower job?” I joke while brushing the fallen strands of hair on my lap.
“Flower?” Confusion corners her tone.
I freeze. “Oh, no sorry. Slip of the mouth. My editing job, yes.” Picking the skin of my thumb, “I like it too much to let it go.”
The answer is satisfactory.
She turns her mic back on and I follow suit.
Then when she opens the door, she turns around to look at me. “You can call me Kat.”
And I’m left counting the butterflies in my stomach because while Dean’s betrayal is souring into curdled yoghurt in my chest, I may have made a friend.
That counts for something more than anything, right?