Maddox and Evie sit at a nearby table with Dahlia, who crosses her eyes when I catch her gaze.
I’m on full display, no longer coasting out of sight. If I look past our tables, there are curious glances, judging looks, as there have been since the Monday following the party.
But my expanding circle of friendship is warm and cosy, offering layers of protection against their envious stares. It’s such a difference from a year ago in Auckland, when I always ate alone, drawing nothing but contempt.
“Do you always look this deep in thought while you’re eating?”
“She’s probably trying to work out how to get those keys again,” Clare quips from across the table, then arches an eyebrow at Wilder. “Don’t suppose you’re got a sports car hidden away in a secret garage.”
“Must be a pretty good hiding place since it’s also secret from me.” He grabs the empty food wrappers from the table, scrunching them up to toss them in the nearby bin like he’s shooting hoops. “Want to cut this afternoon and I’ll show you the delights of the clubhouse?”
She looks ecstatic and I wave her goodbye, trying not to let the reservations show on my face.
A charade that Zane sees through in an instant. “What has you so worried? I thought you wanted your friend to go out with him.”
“We think he’s cheating again.”
“Wilder never stops cheating,” he says with a shrug. “If Dahlia dumping his arse didn’t change his ways, nothing will.”
And I’m genuinely curious. “Doesn’t his behaviour bother you?”
“Yes,” he says, nuzzling into the side of my neck until I’m distracted into a smile. “But me being bothered has neverstopped it either. Maddox and I have each asked him to stop, and he never listens.”
When he pulls back, his face grows more thoughtful.
“His dad is the same, that’s why his mother finally divorced him and moved overseas. Not exactly the world’s best role model.” Then he gives me a shake. “You’re not worried I share his morals, are you? Because I can one hundred percent swear on my life, I have no interest in dating anyone else.”
The reassurance makes my stomach cartwheel.
Each moment spent in Zane’s company is better than the one before. I’m so happy, it scares me to imagine how it would feel if this were ripped away. “Good to know but I’m more worried about my friend.”
“This might sound heartless, but Clare seems fully aware of what she signed up for.”
“True,” I admit. “But that doesn’t stop it hurting.”
Our conversation lapses for a while, not awkward, just both of us lost to introspection.
We stand as it gets near time for class and Zane presses his forehead to mine before pulling back to stroke my hair, the touch sending warm spirals radiating out from my scalp.
“On a completely different note, would you mind if I grab some photos of your art from the storeroom? Dad might know a gallery owner with an interest in up-and-coming talent. There’re no guarantees, but he’s happy to show them if you’re okay with that.”
“Okay with that?” I jump onto my toes, dancing a few steps with excitement. My mind whirls with the possibilities. “Yes, I’m fine with that. Show him everything. Wait!” I stop, dizziness fogging my brain. “Everything except this one piece that didn’t quite work. But all the others…”
“I thought you might object.”
“Are you crazy?” I give his upper arm a slap. “Why would I turn down such a great opportunity?”
“Because you said you wanted to get into Matthewson on your own merit.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, but you’re showing pictures of my work. The gallery owner still has to like them and agree. It’s not like you wandered up and offered me a show because your dad’s paying.” Then I squint at him, suddenly cautious. “It’s not like that, is it?”
“No, it’s not like that.”
He appears happy I appreciate the opportunity, which makes me wonder if my refusals hit harder than I thought.
Much as I don’t want to feel bought, I really shouldn’t stop him doing nice things. Not if he enjoys giving them to me. Especially things so well-tailored I couldn’t help but love them.
Maybe Clare has the right attitude after all, and I should fleece him for everything he’s got.
