Chapter 15
Spencer
I
’ve finally made a move, and I’m not allowed to see Lyra.
I’m not invited to the cocktail party that night. After I unpack and change, I’m offered food made by one of the men, and ushered into a back room of the hotel, where the laughter of the lucky few who get to spend time with Lyra, drifts in from the lobby.
“This is the worst part,” Lucas tells me, settled beside me by the door.
There are pool, ping-pong, and foosball tables, but I refuse to join in, just sitting like I’m in the middle of a pout.
It seems like Lucas has appointed himself as my guide here.
I’m not impressed since having him stuck to my side is keeping the others away.
It could also be because I’m sitting like a lump, but no one initiates a conversation.
They watch me like I’m about to freak out or something, but no one says anything.
It’s a little unnerving. While I’m not here to make friends, I do need to find out about my competition.
I hate that I now have competition for Lyra.
“Are there any good parts?” I ask him, watching as a really good-looking guy cleans the pool table with two shots.
Everyone here is good looking.
“Going on a date,” Lucas offers. “They seem like they’re having fun.”
We saw a glimpse of Lyra when she came back to the hotel for the remainder of her date. She had changed into a white jumpsuit, and I knew just from the quick look that it was backless.
Long and lean, prowling into the lobby like an exotic white wild cat.
Sexy as hell.
It’s strange allowing myself to think of Lyra as sexy. I would always censor my internal comments when I thought of her.
And yes—I often thought of her.
A burst of laughter pulls me back into my misery. “Is it going to be like that all night?” I scrub at my face. I need to get myself out of this funk. I shouldn’t have expected Lyra to greet me with open arms because I’ve never given her a reason to think I wanted to be greeted like that.
Or that I would ever show up here at the very moment she’s returned from a date with seven men.
Who would ever expect that?
“What happens now?” I ask Lucas, who is looking at me too closely. It’s like he’s storing all the information on me and the show away to let loose when he gets back to Battle Harbour.
I considered how I would appear on television if I joined the show, but I didn’t give much thought about what the people of Battle Harbour will think of me.
What will they think of me if I don’t end up with Lyra?
“On their date,” I add. Is it better to think about what Lyra is doing at this moment or about the embarrassment of returning home with my tail tucked between my legs?
It’s really a toss-up.
“They… talk?” Lucas guesses. “This is the first one. The guys get a chance to spend time with Lyra. Have you not seen the show?”
“I saw it when Odin was doing it, but that’s it.”
“They kiss. Sometimes.”
“They’re kissing Lyra tonight?” The thought of that makes my blood boil. I know Lyra has kissed men. I’ve kissed women. I was just with Abigail but still, now that I’m here, the thought of any of those men I saw with Lyra earlier touching her… kissing her—
No. It’s wrong.
Any man doing that is wrong because Lyra is mine.
She’s not mine. She can do whatever she likes, with whomever she likes, and that realization just… sucks.
I’m not usually unreasonable but it’s as if stepping out of Bo’s plane in Saint Pierre has turned me into a different person.
A person who gave up a good relationship with an amazing woman for a chance with Lyra.
I’ve become someone who is going to have to dig deep to find out if the feelings I have for a princess are real or just a fantasy.
A person who has willingly volunteered to be on a reality show.
Who is this person? Because these are not things that I do. I end relationships because we have nothing in common, ending things before they get too serious to save the pain.
I go above and beyond in my work, but never discussing my emotions. Not even acknowledging them.
And I don’t even watch reality television.
I lurch to my feet because if I sit here any longer, my head might well explode. “I’m going to look around,” I tell Lucas.
“They said we’re not supposed to go near the lobby,” he calls after me. I give a wave that I heard him.
But that’s exactly where I go.
It’s like I have a homing beacon attached, bringing me straight back to Lyra. I find the corridor that leads to the lobby and stay close to the wall as I check it out.
There is a small group of men sitting on the double couches by the fireplace, all with drinks in their hands and laughing.
A few more stand by the front door. Plotting an escape? Or waiting for someone to return.
At first glance they look like they’re enjoying themselves, but the laughter sounds forced, and the smiles are too bright for the way their gazes scan the room looking for something.
Looking for Lyra.
I sense her before I see her.
She walks back into the lobby with one of the men, a tall, gawky-looking redhead. Her arm is tucked in his, and the way he’s looking down at her—
He’s looking at her like I want to look at her. Like she’s the most important thing in the room.
In the whole place.
The white jumpsuit is shot through with silver thread so it looks like it’s glowing in the lights. It’s tied around her neck, doing things to her cleavage that I’ve never considered before.
I’ve considered her cleavage, and the rest of her body before, but I always told myself I wasn’t allowed to think of her like that.
Lyra’s hair floats past her shoulders in a cloud of reddish-blonde waves, smiling like she’s exactly where she wants to be. And the way she looks up at the guy beside her…
I’m done denying. It hurts.
I want Lyra to look at me like that. Just once, so I can see what it’s like to be her whole focus.
Lyra has smiled at me countless times, looked at me with dancing eyes, laughter curving those lips into a wide grin, but those times were never just about me.
There was always someone with us, someone watching, taking pictures. Judging.
For once, I’d like to be just with Lyra Erickson. Not Princess Lyra of Laandia.
Someone hands her a fresh drink and she smiles at them too. Why did I bother coming to check on her? She’s having the best time, not even giving a second thought that I’m not there.
I wonder if she thinks of me at all.
And then she sees me.
All it takes is her throwing back her head mid-laugh and glancing over at the doorway where I’m standing. I never realized that I’ve inched around, obvious to anyone who looked over.
I pull back around the corner with a muffled curse, wondering if I should try and get back to the room, or wait until Lyra disappears with another man for some one-on-one time.
I don’t have time to do anything because suddenly Lyra is standing in front of me.
The drink is gone and her arms are folded across her chest. If I was in a courtroom, I’d say she was a hostile witness.
“Did you need something?” she demands in an icy voice. The white material of her jumpsuit folds and flutters, and it’s all I can do to keep my focus up on her face.
She’s wearing the red lipstick that brings all attention to her lips.
I’m allowed to think about her lips now.
“Just looking around,” I manage. “I took a wrong turn.”
“Nope. You were born with a compass in your hand, plus I’m pretty sure Odin showed you the plans for this place, so you know exactly where you’re going.”
“I don’t remember that—”
“Plus you’ve been standing here since I got back with Rand.” She cocks her head. “You’re not the only spymaster in Laandia, Spencer. The only thing I haven’t been able to figure out is the real reason you’re here.”
I’ve never been so glad that my teenage growth spurt gave me enough height to still have a few inches over the tall and slender Lyra, even in her heels.
Taking a quick glance down, I notice the tips of her gold strappy sandals under the hem of the pants. Her toenails are painted a periwinkle blue.
“I told you,” I begin, dragging my gaze back. Lyra claps her fingers in front of my face and I step back in reflex.
“Not here—here,” she hisses. “Is this some sort of big-brother move where you’re trying to stop me from kissing someone? Because—been there, done that, and not about to stand for it again.”
It’s funny that she went back to the same memory that I did. The summer she turned thirteen, Lyra decided she needed to have her first kiss—her first real kiss. She had a list of boys whom she deemed suitable, a list that Gunnar somehow got a copy of.
We spent that summer blocking every opportunity Lyra had for being alone with anyone on that list.
Her brothers thought it was hilarious, but I was more satisfied knowing she wasn’t going to be kissing anyone.
Especially, since I considered that her first kiss had already happened, and it had been with me
“It’s not that,” I tell her.
“Are you aware that your right eyebrow twitches when you lie?”
This is the first time I’m hearing this. “Is that why you could always beat me playing poker?”
“No, that’s just because I’m a better card player than you could ever hope to be.” Those glorious red lips are still frowning at me.
“Okay, fine. I’m not lost,” I concede.
“If you plan on staying, you better lose the brother’s best-friend-protective deal,” she warns.
“Why wouldn’t I stay? I told you, I want to see what there really is between us.”
Lyra’s face softens, losing the irritated gleam in her eyes and some of the haughty poise she was born with. “You keep saying that,” she says in a quiet voice.
“Because it’s true. That’s why I’m here.” I reach out, my fingers practically tingling with the need to touch some part of her.
I manage a slight brush of one of her fingers. How could I have denied myself the opportunity to focus my attention on her lips? Being close enough to her for her perfume—sweet cherry blossoms—to invade my senses?
“I’ve been an idiot,” I say aloud.
“I’m not arguing with you.”
I smile, holding her gaze with a gentleness I’ve never felt before. “It’s nice not to argue with you.”
“I don’t want that,” she says in a quiet voice.
“You want to fight with me?”
“I want you to be you, not some stranger who thinks he has to act in a certain way for the cameras. You know me better than anyone, Spencer.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.” Lyra leans towards me, like a tall flower bending in the breeze. “So you should know that you being here makes me angry.”
Her perfume, those lips, what she’s saying has the effect of making my head spin, leaving me very confused and somewhat unsteady on my feet. “It—what? I thought—”
“That’s the problem. You didn’t think—about me. About what I need, what I want. You just thought about how you might be about to lose something incredible that you never had the courage to go after.”
“Lyra…”
“I’m not finished,” she says, her voice crisp and curt and sounding very much like her mother’s. “I know how I feel about you, Spencer. I’ve always known. It’s only you who needs to get his head on straight.”
All of the air in my lungs expels in a huff. She knows how she feels. Does that mean—
But she’s still not finished. “You will not be getting any special treatment until you figure all this out.” Her finger juts out and pokes me in the chest. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even give you a date.
I’m not wasting time here. I’m not giving up opportunities with the other men—who all know why they’re here, and that’s because of me.
I’m not picking you over them just to have you decide at the last minute that I’m not who you want.
Because—” She takes a step forward and pokes me again, harder than before.
“You have been picking everyone else over me for my entire life.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have. You picked my brothers. You picked my father when you told him I snuck out of the castle to go to that party.”
“You were sixteen!”
“You still picked him. You picked Abigail.” Her face crumples in an un-Lyra like expression and I instinctively reach for her to comfort.
But she steps away, schooling her face into her usual coolness.
“I’m not some rebound either,” she continues.
“If you’re here, you’re over her. If you decide to stay, you better start putting me first, Spencer.
I won’t stand for it any other way. And don’t waste too much time, because I’m not waiting for you. ”
“There’s the talk I wanted.” With that, she sweeps back into the lobby.
That’s when I see that her jumpsuit is backless, and the cameras have caught the entire exchange on film.