“I promise. Chris only told me where you were to convince you, but nobody knew where I was except him.”
No words come out. All I can do is stare at the road ahead of us as we leave the scene. My lips are still tingling at the touch of our lips gently landing on each other. The slowness of that moment in the garden replays in my mind.
Talk about doing something—
I just imploded my whole life in fifteen seconds. All I have left is Holden’s career.
So, I toy with the idea of a “fake” us.
If everyone thinks he’s dating me, then they’ll think he’s stable. Stability equals dependability, which turns into profitability. This was the right move. My image exudes stability.
“This could be good?” I mumble to myself.
“What did you say?”
Holden quickly squeezes my thigh with his open hand, a touch that I don’t register until a few seconds later.
“Just trying out what this all means.”
He is driving oddly slow as he zones in on the road. I’m not even sure I mind, as time has stood still in this car. The side effects of tonight haven’t quite hit yet.
“If you are worried about Chris…” He says.
The sudden mention of his name makes the space in my lungs constrict, no longer able to take in any air.
So much for time standing still.
Holden grips the steering wheel tighter as cars pass him on the highway with ease.
“Can we just pull over? I need to breathe.”
He doesn’t respond to my request immediately, only moving the car far to the right lane.
I needed the fresh air, and the window being cracked open isn’t enough. If I don’t exit this vehicle and smell the open air of the highway, my airways might cave in.
His arm looks tense as I see a blue vein poking out on his dominant hand controlling the wheel. It takes a moment before the car comes to an abrupt stop as we coast to the side until the tires are in the grass.
I get out of the car and wait for him to do the same, resuming our conversation before all the cameras suddenly appeared…
“Holden.”
“Charlotte,” he says in a deeper, mocking voice.
“Be serious.”
I put my hand up in a stopping motion, which he returns with a scout’s honor sign and he remains tight-lipped as if he has thrown away the key.
“Why did you want to work with me?”
His face scans mine. The stilettos on my feet spear the grass as I sink into one spot.
“What kind of question is that?”
His voice is now elevated; he’s no longer soft and careful with his tone. The rapid blinking on his side makes me squirm. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked?
“Never mind, forget I said anything.”
I tug at my feet to pull the heel wedged in between the grass and dirt. Each pull makes me grunt in very attractive ways.
