She smirks casually. “It’s the same thing. You were even thinking of it.”
As if she is gearing up for another quip, Skye pauses, showcasing a contemplative look on her face.
“Have you even told Holden about the tickets?”
To my surprise, I was able to go from revealing I was seeing a dead girl and my life was in shambles to cashing in a favor from Lena. An odd but effective trajectory to getting something done for a client.
I shake my head at Skye, hoping the mail carrier will arrive soon. Lena mentioning they should be here by four with the two guest passes to theLoveSickpremiere at the TCL Chinese Theatre.
“I am waiting for the tickets,” I say with my head down, scribbling away at another card.
“For what? For Sloane to give you written permission to come?”
“If I have them in hand and he sees how much trouble I went through to get them… maybe he won’t say anything?”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard,” Skye snaps back.
“Has anyone told you that you are abrasive?”
Before Skye can respond, there’s a loud banging at my door. I exhale once more before shifting myself back into reality and walking over.
Slowly, I take my time to unlock the door. I’m met with his floppy brown hair covering his eyes. He is wearing a formfitting white T-shirt, green cargo pants and that somber smile that always follows him.
“Uh, hey.”
“Hey, you…” I say, wagging my finger back at him, the most awkward gesture I could have done.
We haven’t spoken since the car ride back to LA. I hope he feels as uncomfortable as I do at this moment. Because I am stuttering, and as usual, he loves to live in silence…
Holden beelines to my couch without looking at the surroundings in the apartment—every misaligned picture frame and outdated piece of furniture shedding light on how different we are.
Holden makes no comment on the appearance of my place. Instead, he keeps rubbing the side of his left arm, waiting for me to sit next to him. I press my lips together tightly before heading to my spot on the couch. My cat, Mr. Freckles, is unmoved.
“So, what am I doing here?” he says, gently sending my cat into a deep lull as he finds his favorite spot to be pet.
“I told you, preparing ourselves. We have nine days left and I need you to expect what is coming?”
I leave my statement as more of a question, not fully knowing what to expect myself. A hard lump rises in his throat and he swallows it down at the mention of the podcast interview.
Holden asks, “What’s in that?”
He gestures to my coffee, wanting to take a sip of my drink. Without words spoken between us, I hand it over to him. With his lips almost touching my side of the mug, he asks, “You are still wanting to help me?”
I nod my head up and down, waiting a second to speak, not wanting to come across as too eager. So, I bite the inside of my cheek, pretending to sit with the question before letting out, “Of course, why not?”
Holden wets his lips after he takes a sip, passing the mug to my hand.
“Not bad.”
My focus is no longer on the coffee talk, but his forearms, his chest and then his mouth. I inch my body further away on the couch so our knees can no longer touch.
Holden is no longer petting Mr. Freckles. Just staring at me blankly, “So you are telling me that even though you quit yourjob and you have no incentive to fake-date me that you are still wanting to play along?”
My mouth is suddenly dry as I interrupt the eye contact with, “I quit Chris. Not you.”
A contained smile stretches over his face. Everything inside of me wants to desperately bring it back to the forefront.
“Besides, the only complication I see is going to be the interview. I just want to make sure you know what to expect.”
