A strange, unsettling feeling overwhelmed me. I hated it.
She shifted on her bench, as if her mind was sorting through something. Then she suddenly dug her hand through the peach cotton bag lying next to her on the bench. The hand returned with her cell phone.
“Give me your phone,” she said.
My brow lifted. “Sorry?”
“I’ll save my number.” Her smile was easy, unguarded. “In case you ever feel like talking about books, especially Donna Copeland’s. Or you know, panicking in crowded places.”
Then she chuckled.
For some reason, I didn’t argue, and didn’t wonder if this was strange. I had never exchanged numbers with strangers before, not my personal number, at least. But somehow, I reached into my pocket and brought out my phone, the metallic device cold against my palm.
I handed her the phone. And in less than a second, she entered her number and dialed it. It rang. Her ringtone was a song in a foreign language. It wasn’t Chinese, not Japanese. Maybe Korean? Her cotton bag had a picture of an Asian man. Maybe he was from a boy band. The bag did read SG Boys. Maybe she liked the boy. I frowned at that thought, a thought that suddenly developed a flavor–a revolting, bitter taste on my tongue.
When she handed my phone back to me, there was a new contact on it.Bethwith a black heart icon placed next to it.
Beth.
Elizabeth?
I liked it.
A loud horn blared nearby just as I changed the saved contact toElizabethand pocketed my phone. Her eyes darted behind me, and a smile perfected itself on her lips.
“Well,” she breathed, throwing her tablet and her cell phone into her bag. She rose to her feet, swinging the bag over her shoulder.
“See you around, Snow white.”
Snow white.
See you around.
I shouldn’t care about those words. But watching her get into the waiting Range Rover, a cascade of golden hair glimpsing from the driver’s seat, I reflected on our conversation.See you around. I didn’t know if that boy that just came to pick her up was her friend or maybe something more.
But I wanted to see her again.
And again.
Maybe again?
I wanted to see her until this unnamed feeling in my chest faded away.
I would see her again. And when that happened, I hoped she would meet me, not Zaghan.
6
BETH
“Ethereal”
“What?” I asked, my lips morphing into a grin despite my struggle to suppress it.
Kenzo watched me with a look that was all too familiar. He would usually look at me like that when he thought I was about to fall foolishly in love again.
“You seriously need to look at the mirror.” He lifted one hand from the steering wheel, flipping down the vanity mirror. “You are redder than a fucking tomato.”
I caught my face in the said mirror. My eyes were wide and shining, catching the reflection of the sun hitting the mirror. The redness crawled from my neck to my cheeks, engulfing my face in flames.
