“No, no, you’re right.” I sat up, frowning. “And actually, on that note, I’m going to head home before it gets too dark.” I got to my feet, crumpling up the rest of my pastry into its waxy paper bag.
Skyler’s eyes widened. “Wha—? Do you want me to walk with you?”
Oh no, I couldn’t possibly handle that. Mercy.Uncle. “No.” Then despite myself, I immediately added, “Can we meet again, though? Soon?”
He nodded, brows furrowed. “Sure, just let me know when you have time.” His concern was causing my legs to liquefy again.
“I will. Um, nice seeing you.” And I shot out the door as quickly as my liquidy legs could carry me.
This was so beyond typical. He wanted to save me—the thought made my cheeks burn and my head try to float away—but not in the way I wanted to be saved.
Friends. No, not even friends. He thought of me as a kitten he’d saved from a tree. I didn’t want to be his kitten.Orhis friend, I wanted ...
What I couldn’t have. As usual.
July 21st
Armand:Sorry about the shower.
Lucas:omg hi, didn’t think I’d hear from you! No worries about the shower but also maybe kind of worry about the shower?:)
Armand:I shall do my best.
Lucas:so I guess now that we’ve connected, did you want to try and meet up? I swore I almost ran into you the other day
Armand:Unlikely. I’m very busy.
Armand:Making messes. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other eventually.
Lucas:I don’t know, it hasn’t happened yet—sure you don’t wanna schedule something?
July 22nd
Darren’s fancy-schmancy work party was on the horizon, which meant that I’d spent the last two hours in the fitting room of his favorite boutique, making sure that whatever I wore would be absolutely perfect.
“Hm. No,” he said in regards to a sleek, powder blue suit I came out modeling. “I told you, a black suit is classic. Mature.”
“Yeah, and boring.”
“Boring like me?” Darren leaned forward on the chaise he’d been lounging on. “We have to match, Lucas. My plus-one is a reflection on me, I told you that.”
“I know, but—” I arched around to check the mirror, admiring the tastefully subtle little sparkles across the jacket lapels. “Gray is blah, and black washes me out.”
Darren got to his feet with a soft sigh. “Black is slimming, Lucas.”
My heart sank, and my fingers crept protectively to my stomach.
“So sorry to interrupt,” interrupted the fitting-room attendant, holding out several more options. “But may I perhaps offer a compromise? A rich, midnight blue for instance? Or this—” he presented me with a lovely suit with a satin trim “—a sea-glass green, would really bring out your eyes.”
Itwasa marvelous color. “I love that,” I said, deliberating between it and the blue I was wearing. “I’m torn. I love the sparkles, though ... What do you think, in your professional opinion?”
The attendant’s eyes flickered from Darren to me. He cleared his throat. “Well. It is true that black is timeless, and a very dapper choice for a formal event—”
“See?” Darren angled his chin at the fitting room before turning to the attendant. “He’ll do the black.”
We drove back to his house in tense silence, my fingers clenching together in my lap. The atmosphere was stifling, and I braved a glance over at Darren gripping the steering wheel. “I think that poor attendant thought we were gonna start fighting or something. Make a whole spectacle slap-fighting in front of the customers ...” I shot him a careful smile, “destroy the fitting room in the throes of passion?”
“Oh,” Darren said coolly, “was that why you were flirting with him?”
