Chapter 13 #2
Something inside me twists—not so much because of my memory of the prelims, but rather because she’s mentioned her boss. There’s no way she knows, is there? Everything about Lara radiates authenticity. It seems impossible that she would knowingly work on a stolen project.
“Well . . . as Nataly so cheekily promised, I’d like to have a look at this trendy place here.” Lara glances down at herself, at her baggy jeans. “If I can even get inside wearing this?”
“Absolutely! But we could just take a stroll around Notting Hill if you prefer,” I offer, hoping she’ll accept. Maleek would be worse than Nataly, considering the number of drinks he’s knocked back already, and Hank running into Lara would be pretty much the last thing I need this week.
“I’ve worn myself out enough already today, and Notting Hill isn’t that interesting this time of night.”
I nod—what else can I do?—and hold open the door for Lara, who squeezes in past me. I can’t see Hank anywhere, at least.
“Pretty full in here,” Lara says, but unlike me, she doesn’t seem to mind at all. What with the crowd, she’s suddenly so close to me that I can feel her breath on my skin as she looks up at me. “They have nonalcoholic cocktails here, right?”
I nod and point at the menu mounted on the wall above the bar.
Her arm brushes mine as she turns, and suddenly I’m grateful—to Nataly for her cheekiness and to Lara that she insisted on the bar.
Lara orders a virgin mojito, and to keep things simple, I order the same, because her mere presence is enough to banish any coherent thoughts I might have right now.
I put both drinks on the Bytes here’s to us getting to the next round,” I say and raise my glass.
Lara rolls her eyes, but she clinks my glass. “You eternal optimist, you.”
I snort quietly, because that’s not something anyone who knows me would say about me. Maybe it’s more that she brings it out in me?
“Oh wow, no wonder these are expensive. This is the best drink I’ve ever had.” She eyes her glass appreciatively.
“In that case, we need to try the ones they created for our company party. There’s a Minecraft Mule, and my mate Maleek had a bright-yellow Pikachu Punch earlier.”
Lara giggles, and the sound vibrates in my chest.
“How are you?” I ask, looking her over—the sparkle in her hazel eyes, her lips that bring back memories and desires.
“Fine,” she says. “Thanks to the girls. But this morning was a different story.”
“I hope you didn’t feel like I was forcing you to come inside with me. It’s totally OK if you want to spend your evening with them.”
She shakes her head, which makes me happier than it should. “Aria’s about to disappear to her room with a book anyway. She offered to come up with an excuse for me if I didn’t want to stay.”
“So that’s what she was whispering in your ear.”
“Yep.” She takes a sip of her drink. “We went to a rage room today. I pummeled a car with a baseball bat. Me! With these arms.” She holds out her arm and tugs at her loose-fitting jumper, as if to show me that there are no muscles underneath.
Her sleeve slips just a tiny bit, but it’s enough to expose the skin beneath her wrist—where I wear my watch, and where she has a patch of scarred skin.
It stands out in dark pink, even in the dim light from the chandeliers.
Lara’s gaze follows mine, and she hurriedly pulls her sleeves down.
Then she raises her head again, watching me carefully, like she’s expecting—no, fearing—a reaction.
When I say nothing, she reaches for her glass again and takes gulps almost as big as Maleek did earlier when he was trying to give himself liquid courage. Only that won’t work with her nonalcoholic drink.
“Were you imagining Shane’s face?” I ask, following up on our conversation, since she’s obviously feeling uncomfortable right now.
“Mm?” A small crease forms between Lara’s brows, like I just interrupted her train of thought.
She puts down her glass and pulls both of her sleeves to the middle of her palms. Her grip is so tight that I can see white patches forming under her fingernails.
All her calm composure is gone, and she seems just as tense as she was after her stage performance.
It feels like she’s raising a wall between us again.
I recognize what she’s doing; it’s pure self-preservation.
But it also wakes something in me. I want to tear down her walls.
Brick by brick. I want to see the things she hides from others.
She’s already given me a first glimpse, but I want more. All she has to do is let me in.
“You’re beautiful.” The words are out before my brain can catch up.
“What?” The crease between her dark eyebrows deepens. Her eyes flash, but not with joy. I’m pretty sure it’s anger, because she snorts. “You’ve seen my scars.”
“Yes,” I reply.
“And now you’re complimenting me, so I feel better?” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m complimenting you because it’s the truth.
” And maybe the alcohol I’ve had tonight has loosened my tongue, because I don’t stop, though I should.
“I was thinking it already when I saw you outside earlier. And to be honest, during breakfast at Crow Manor when you told me about Novel Haven for the first time. Sure, fine, maybe I’m saying it now so you’ll feel better.
But that doesn’t make it any less true.” Lara’s watching me, wide-eyed, and her anger has been replaced with honest confusion.
My heart is thundering, and it keeps the words tumbling from my mouth, unrestrained.
“You have no reason to be insecure. Not at the conference, and not here either. You were the most interesting person in that room, and you are here too.”