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"No there isn't—"
"I'm telling you there is," Jess snarls at him. "Serena dear, you should get out here. Aidan just texted me that he's waiting inside with some other people."
"No, no, I'll come and help you."
"There's no need. My friend will help me." She grins. "I'll use the occasion to remind him of our discount."
"Fine. See you in a bit." I pay the driver and step out of the car.
I climb the stairs with dignity, mentally thanking Abby for all the cardio training she insists we do before our volleyball games. I take a full minute when I'm inside to admire the decor: the cherry wood furniture, the intricately painted high ceiling, and the centerpiece of the room—the beautiful chandelier. There is no one in the entrance hall except the two women behind the front desk, who are too busy brooding over some papers to notice me. I wonder where everyone is. Maybe they're in the restaurant already. I take out my phone, thinking of calling Aidan, then decide to look for him directly in the restaurant.
"Miss, you're not allowed to go in there," one of the women calls just as I move in the direction I vaguely remember the restaurant being.
"Why?" I ask, startled.
"The hotel and the restaurant are privately booked for today and the weekend. I'm afraid you'll have to come back another day. I'll be happy to make a reservation for you."
"Thanks," I say, doing a very bad job of hiding my disappointment. So much for Jess's friend. Why didn't he tell us the place was booked? I'm about to call Jess to tell her that we should spread the word that nothing is happening anymore when I see him, sitting in one of the two armchairs across the room, in front of the fireless fireplace. The amused expression on his face tells me he's been watching me for a while. My stomach churns as the memory of the two days I spent crying in my bed comes back to haunt me. The memory isn't even clear; only the pain stands out. And the pain is as raw now that I have him in front of me as it was then.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, cursing Jess for lying to me. Why did she have to invite James?
He gets up from the armchair and walks toward me with determined, but slow-paced, strides, holding his hands behind his back. "I heard there was something to celebrate."
"Not anymore. Haven't you heard the second part? The place is privately booked."
"I know." He smiles, pulling gently at the sleeves of his black shirt. "I booked it."
I fold my arms over my chest. "I see. I take it that Jess didn't actually invite anyone else and that if I call her now, she's already on her way to our apartment?"
"No, she's on her way to downtown San Jose actually, meeting the crowd there. I believe the words partying all night have come up twice in our conversation."
"So what now?"
"Now we talk."
I snort. "You booked the entire place so you could talk to me?"
"Well, I was aiming to get you kidnapped by elves and so—"
I can't help smiling. My face feels a little hot. "My most embarrassing line ever, and you just don't seem to be able to forget it, huh?"
Not that I will ever forget it. I want to taste every single recipe in Willie Wonka's chocolate factory, get myself kidnapped by elves and locked up in Rivendell, and attend the midnight release of the next book about the wizarding world that I know Rowling will write. If that last thing fails, I want to learn how to fly on a broom at the very least.
He got the chocolate factory all right, and while this place doesn't really look anything like Rivendell in the Lord of The Rings movies, it's as close as it gets.
"It wasn't embarrassing," he says softly, smiling. He gazes at me longingly from under his long lashes, and I suddenly feel completely naked in front of him. Exposed. "It was innocent and adorable. It showed me your dreams—the real you."
"So did your line." I wish I could forget his words even more than I wish I could forget mine. "Your three fears. I hate snakes and always keep a light on when I sleep. And I suffer from chronic commitment phobia," I recite.
His smile fades; his shoulders slump. "I most certainly hope that line didn't show who I am." He shudders slightly, looking away from me. "Dreams show who you are. Fears show who you don't want to be. And I like to think I've overcome one of those fears. With your help."
"So you are not afraid of snakes anymore?"
"Serena… " He raises an arm, as if he'd like to put it around me, but I take a quick step back. Not quick enough, though. His fingers brush my arm, sending an impulse so powerful, so cutting, that it takes away my breath.
"I said everything I needed to when we last saw each other, James."
"No, you babbled incoherently something that has absolutely nothing to do with how things really are. You can leave right now if you want. But I'd very much like you to stay."
