Chapter 38 #2
Give this man an Academy Award, ladies and gents. Never have I seen a more convincing delivery. It moves me to tears, and I can only hope it moves Blayne to set himself on fire and beg me to piss on him to put it out so that I can tell him no. He’s the literal fucking worst.
A shiver runs through me when I remember how I threw myself at him. I can admit, if only to myself, that part of my flirtation was only meant to get under King’s skin. But part of it was real, and I feel sick about it.
I scoot a little closer to King, and he turns and kisses the side of my head. It’s like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer on a cold morning; it chases away the discomfort Blayne causes me. And it makes me wonder.
If a kiss on the side of my head brings my soul this much peace, what sort of healing would I know if I let him kiss my lips? I shouldn’t even think about that. He can’t kiss me until he understands the gravity of that action for me. My secret might not be as big as his, but it’s still big to me.
If King kisses me, it’s a promise that he’s choosing me, the bitch with the bratty attitude and the chestnut hair. His dark horse. His beauty. The girl who shouldn’t be here but is.
And if he kisses me, it’s a promise that he’ll still be here tomorrow. I refuse to ever again look through the rain and beg him to come back to me. Not happening.
I have to push those thoughts away for right now, though. Some things are a little more important than my love life.
Leaning forward, I snag Kindra’s attention across the coffee table. “Kindra, could you come with me to the bathroom?”
She nods, and as she’s gathering her clutch, I lean closer to King.
“I’m going to ask if it’s okay if I talk to Ezra,” I whisper. “We have to stop them from eloping.”
He leans back and nods at me. We need Ezra with the group on that last day. He has to be part of that final decision, even if he thinks he’s already made that decision. When he learns the truth, he might feel very differently, and my only hope is that he’s a vote for King.
Kindra and I slip into the bathroom, and I don’t bother pretending that I need to piss. I stop her right beside the sinks and tell her that I need to talk to her.
“I figured,” she says. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who’d need to take a friend to the bathroom.”
“And if I were, you don’t seem like the type of girl I’d ask,” I say. “No offense.”
“None taken. You’re spot on. I don’t tag along for actual piss sessions. Only when conversations must be had.”
Okay, this is going well. We’re on the same wavelength. I just hope what I say next lands like I hope it does.
“So, I actually needed to run something by you,” I say. Fuck, why are my palms so sweaty? “I know this is weird, but would it be okay with you if I get Ezra alone for a little bit tonight?”
Her eyes bulge, and she folds her arms over her cleavage and cocks her hip. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, oh, fuck, no!” I smack my palm against my stupid, stupid forehead. “That sounded a way I did not intend. I meant that I need to talk to Ezra about something privately.”
She uncocks her hip.
“That’s all,” I continue. “Only talking. Ezra will have my express permission to tell you everything we say, but I can’t. It’s not my secret to tell, and I can’t betray anyone’s trust more than I have the potential to tonight.”
Her eyes widen again.
“No! Fuck, I suck at talking. I wouldn’t have the potential to betray your trust. But I can’t tell you whose trust I could betray. It’s not you, though. I promise.”
Kindra narrows her eyes, and her head tilts slightly to the left. She purses her lips and assesses me. “So you want to be alone with my British fiancé, and you already have a track record for going for men with British accents? Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”
Shit.
“No,” I say, shaking my head and trying to swallow around the golf-ball-sized lump that just sprouted in my throat. “I didn’t . . . I mean, that is—”
A smile springs onto Kindra’s face, and she unfolds her arms to give my shoulder a playful shove.
“Damn, you’re too easy. Of course you can have a chat alone with Ezra.
I trust Ezra, and I trust you. If I didn’t trust both of you, it would be a different answer, but I know neither of you would do anything as foolish as fucking around behind HBK’s back. ”
I don’t miss that she’s thrown out her killer name, and I’m not mad about it. She’s merely letting me know that she trusts me, but she’s also ready to go to war if I break that trust. It’s not a threat. It’s a reminder of what she’s willing to fight for.
“Thank you,” I say. “And seriously, if it would make you feel better, he has my permission to record the entire interaction and play it back for you if he so chooses. I just . . . can’t.”
“Man, this is really weighing on you, isn’t it?”
I nod. “Yeah. It really is.”
“Well, I hope that whatever it is, he helps you get it figured out.”
Me too.
I tell her to have Ezra meet me outside the nightclub, beside the dumpsters.
He should head out first. I’ll follow a few minutes later so that we don’t draw suspicion from anyone.
The last thing I want is for someone else to come trotting down those stairs when I’m in the middle of begging him to not get married tomorrow.
But Ezra has to stay, that much I’m sure of.
Everything hinges on what he says tonight, and if I can get him to agree, if he’ll call off the elopement, I’ll enact the part of my plan that King doesn’t know about. From there, we’ll either strengthen our foundation or send it crumbling to dust.