Page 25 of Love Out Loud

Chapter 10

Lennon

Lark is nervous. If I didn’t know her so well, I’d probably miss it because she’s laughing and her voice is rich and smooth like really good coffee. But every so often, she pulls at her dress as if she could make it longer. She’s crossed and uncrossed her feet at the ankles at least four times in the past five minutes. And she keeps flipping her hair away from her face, as if having it touch her cheek is a nuisance.

I didn’t mean to be so early to this lunch. I’d say I misjudged midday traffic, but that’s not the whole truth. Seeing Lark in that sundress completely threw me off. The apartment suddenly felt like it was closing in on me, and I needed to get out. One minute, I was minding my own business, scrolling aimlessly on my phone, and the next, she was there. Looking like that. And I couldn’t breathe. Even my four-count breathing couldn’t help claw me out of the tunnel vision I had when I looked at her.

She’s always been gorgeous, but the past ten years have been kind to her in a way I hadn’t expected. Her hips are just a little fuller. Her lips are slightly pinker. Her cheeks are more flushed. Her back—always straight and confident—is relaxed a bit in the way of a woman who knows she doesn’t have to pull out any false bravado anymore.

The blue in her eyes is only deepened by the color of that dress. The sliver of ocean behind her glimmers as if in response to her. She looks like she was made to be here. Like this was always meant to be. She just got here, and I’m already dreading her leaving so much that I’m having a hard time concentrating on the story she’s telling about Devin’s graduation.

“Lennon!” A booming voice comes behind me, and as grateful as I am for other people to put some kind of buffer between me and whatever I’m feeling for my best friend right now, I’m also annoyed that they’ve broken off Lark’s singsong storytelling voice.

I smile reassuringly at her as she folds her hands in her lap. She’s probably clenching them there, and I wish I could take one and rub my thumb over her knuckles in reassurance like I used to do when she’d be waiting backstage before a show.

“You don’t have to wait with me.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, who else is going to remind you not to bite your lip so you don’t ruin your makeup?”

I shake my head quickly. I don’t have time to reminisce. Noah is here, Lark is looking at me expectantly, and Jessica is almost assuredly going to be in rare form. I need to focus.

I twist around to wave Noah over, but what I see has me jumping out of my seat before I can think better of it. I hear Lark’s chair scrape against the restaurant patio as she follows suit.

Jessica isn’t going to be the only wild card at this lunch, though her skin-tight, sleeveless, red bodysuit, straight-legged jeans, and heels suggest she came to play.

They also brought along Silas Matthews, Lark’s new counterpart.

He looks suave as always in a black shirt and gray jeans. His black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing dark aviator sunglasses. The man perpetually looks like a modern James Dean. I don’t even want to know how much product it takes for him to get his hair to stay like that as he rides around with his convertible top down. I can sure smell it as he brushes right past me and invades Lark’s space so thoroughly, I think she might need to take a step back.

She doesn’t, though. She holds her ground, even as she has to crane her neck to look up at him. That’s my girl.

“You must be Lark Caspian,” Silas says. His voice is raspy in a this is what I sound like in bed kind of way. And vaguely Southern, though he’s never told anyone where he grew up. He takes Lark’s right hand between both of his and shuffles his body back slightly under the guise of appraising her.

It’s not a competition. Of course it’s not. That would be ridiculous. I don’t need to compete with Silas Matthews. And I probably couldn’t anyway, because despite his rebel-without-a-cause appearance, the man is undeniably and legitimately nice.

But I get no small amount of joy out of the fact that he made a clear power move by stepping into Lark’s space and she didn’t budge.

She smiles tightly up at him. “I am. And you are…?” Her eyes dart to mine, her eyebrows raised in question.

Without thinking, I clear my throat and step closer to place my hand on the small of Lark’s back. I’m just as bad as he is, posturing like a caveman. Showing ownership over a woman who has her own damn wings and can fly wherever she wants.

Silas is still cupping her hand in his, but her face is turned toward me. Her eyebrows tick up another half inch, and the corners of her tight smile press down, as if she’s trying to suppress a laugh. She knows exactly what I did, all right. At least she thinks it’s funny.

“This is Silas Matthews. He’ll be narrating the chapters in the male point of view in Sizzling Secrets,” I say quietly.

“Ah.” Lark turns her attention back to him, then deftly rotates her hand so their right palms meet. She shakes his hand in greeting, then lets go. “Nice to meet you.”

“And this is Jessica Jordans, the author of the book,” I say.

Jessica comes forward and throws her arms around Lark, who lets out a surprised “Oh.” Jessica steps back, holding Lark by the biceps to get a good look at her.

“You are just adorable,” she squeals. “Lennon, why didn’t you tell me how cute she is?”

I grimace. I’m not sure if Jessica is being genuine or trying to diminish Lark in some way. My guess is the former, but it’s never easy to tell with her.

“He probably didn’t mention it because it’s not relevant to audiobook recording,” Lark says drily.

Jessica tips her head back and cackles, her long brown hair tipping over her shoulder and falling down her back. “Oh my god. She’s funny, too!” She claps her hands in delight.