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Every time he laughs or take a sip of his beer, his eyes inevitably go over to Echo in a very subtle move. Every time he checks someone out across the bar, beyond our nook, he checks her out too.
And now I’m wondering what his deal is.
Why can’t he stop looking at his best friend’s ex-girlfriend? What did he do to send Echo to St. Mary’s?
Maybe if I figure that out, I can help Echo.
Although I know what I’m doing.
I do want to help my friend — I always want to help my friends — but I can’t help but feel that I’m also trying to keep myself busy. I’m also trying to keep my mind occupied and my thoughts on the present. On the people around me.
That’s what I’ve been doing all day.
That’s the second reason I invited everyone over to the mansion. So I could be around people.
So I wouldn’t think about him.
The man who gave me a bunch of rules to follow and who wouldn’t let me get close to him because he thinks it’s inappropriate.
I can’t help but think what he must be doing right now. Maybe he’s sleeping.
Although, nah. I don’t think he’s sleeping.
I think he’s working — because he’s always working — and I think he’s thinking about me. Because I’m at this bar and he must be wondering and seething over if I’m following all his rules. He must be watching the clock to see if I’ll come back before my curfew.
I have every intention of following all his rules though. So I wish he wouldn’t worry.
In fact, now that everything is settled and Echo’s plan is going well, I want to go back home. I want to go back to St. Mary’s where I know he is, in his little cottage. I want to knock at his door and demand that he let me throw myself at him. I want to demand that he take me in his arms and make it all better.
The urge becomes so strong that I excuse myself from the couch in the hopes of going outside and getting some fresh air. So I can regroup and be there for my friends.
But then, almost halfway to the front entrance, I come to a stop.
My legs won’t move, like I’ve come to the edge of a cliff, a precipice, and if I take one more step I’ll fall, so my body is afraid.
Which I hate.
Because my heart is not.
My heart wants to fall.
My heart wants to leap and jump.
All the way down. All the way across to him.
Him.
Because he’s here.
How’s he here?
And he’s spotted me. Right away. As soon as he entered.
And now he’s striding over to me with single-minded purpose. With dark eyes and shadowed features.
With a determined purpose of my own, I make myself move.
I make myself take the leap and he’s there to catch me.
He’s there to put his hand on me, on my arm, as air rushes through my body and my belly whooshes at the drop.
I grab onto his shirt. “Hi.”
His chest is lifting up and down as he stares at me, his eyes shining. “The Horny Bard.”
My eyes widen behind my glasses. “I… You know about this bar?”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice low.
Clutching his shirt, I go up on my tiptoes. “I swear I was safe. Remember I told you all the brothers and boyfriends were coming?” I look over my shoulder, searching for them in the crowd. “They’re here somewhere. You should —”
I feel a tug on my arm, making me both snap my eyes back and go crashing onto his torso.
All my nerve endings awaken at being so close to him.
Instantly I try to memorize every part of his body that I’m touching with mine lest he remember that we shouldn’t be so close. From the looks of it though, his mind is elsewhere.
His mind is on my mouth, as proven by his next words and his thunderous expression. “What lipstick is that?”
“P-Purple Witchcraft,” I say immediately, even though I’m a little thrown about the subject change.
He grits his teeth as he stares at my lips. “Yeah, you’re that, aren’t you? You’re a fucking witch.”
I press myself even closer, my heart thundering. “I don’t…” I lick my lips and his fingers tighten on my arm. “Y-you didn’t say anything about lipstick so I wore some.”
“I should have.”
I clutch his shirt. “I promise I followed all your rules. I did.”
“Did you?”
I nod rapidly. “I swear, I did. I’ve dressed modestly and I haven’t looked at or touched any boys. And it’s only 10:00 PM. I was going to come back by my curfew.”
I have worn a modest dress. I chose it carefully too. It’s a white flowy dress with purple polka dots and an empire waist, that ends just below my knees. It’s sleeveless but not in a way that shows off a lot of skin. It really is conservative but cute. Plus no high or sexy heels; I’m wearing these really cute pair of suede flats from Prada.
