Page 27 of Was I Ever Free

Imogene’s voice echoes in my head, reminding me that my feelings are perfectly valid. I take a deep breath and glance around the club trying to shake the thoughts away. The more I look, the more I feel inadequate. A reminder of my inexperience.

There is nothing inherently wrong with inexperience, I just—I just do notwantit anymore. I am tired of feeling coddled by everyone around me.

Including Bastian… and maybe if I am being honest; especially Bastian. Ever since last night, I cannot seem to shake the low burning heat I feel when around him. It is not at all familiar but intoxicating nonetheless. And this environment is only heightening it.

How can I make him see me as desirable and not Lenix’s little sister?

I shift in my seat, setting my drink on the table in front of us. Maybe it is time for me to act and not think. What is the worst that could happen? For once I do not dwell on the what-ifs and clear my throat, before licking my lips in anticipation, placing my hand on Bastian’s thigh.

The rough texture of his jeans under my fingers sends a small thrill down my spine. His muscles flex under my touch and I freeze like prey trying to evade sudden death. My eyes are facing forward, still on the woman dancing on stage and I suddenly do not know what else to do.

Wonderful.

I can feel Bastian staring and my shaky resolve melts away as the seconds tick by. Finally, I turn my head to face him and give him a wobbly smile.

As usual, he does not speak. Instead, he stares me down and lifts a dark brow, his eyes falling on my hand still firmly planted on his thigh, then back up again. Suddenly, I am acting instead of thinking again and I dive toward him, aiming for his lips.

I am stopped by two strong hands around my arms before ever even coming close to my goal.

My eyes flutter open and my cheeks heat with the realization that Bastian has rejected me.

Again.

His dark brown eyes pin me in place, his eyebrows dipping low in scrutiny.

“What are you doing?” he says, his voice low but serious.

I fight the sudden feeling of embarrassment and shake myself out of his grasp. He lets me go and I spring up from my seat. “It is nothing. Never mind,” I stutter quickly trying to take a large step away from the table and far, far away from Bastian. But his long fingers circle my wrist and I am stopped in my tracks. I try to pull away but his hold only tightens, forcing me to look back and face his burning stare.

“Sit back down,” he orders, with a small cant of his head. After a few seconds of weighing my limited options, I concede with a huff. I cross my arms over my chest and look anywhere but at him.

“Luce,” he says, his tone steady and slightly scolding.

My cheeks continue to burn, and I push my hat further down to try to hide my face from Bastian’s continued stare.

“I should not have done that. I am sorry, I will not do it again,” I mutter, but in truth, I do not really mean it. I just do not know what else to say.

“Then why did you?” he says with a hint of curiosity.

I consider brushing him off with a non-answer, but mull over his question while anxiously biting at my lip. Wasn’t this road trip part of me putting myself out there? To find the courage to just… live? So instead, I take a large centering breath and match his gaze, cocking my head.

“What is the point of this road trip if I don’t live a little?” I answer with more confidence than expected.

I blink in surprise when Bastian smiles. It is gone as fast as it appeared like being visited by an elusive ethereal being in the dead of night.

“And you think this will add to your little adventure?” he says dryly.

His words are like ice pelting on my skin. His tone makes me feel childish. My heart slams into my chest in response. I try to stand up again.

This time Bastian’s finger finds one of the loops on my jeans and tugs it forcefully.

“Sit.” He takes a slow sip of his beer, his cold gaze on me. “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way.”

His finger lingers near my hip until finally he uncurls it and leans back away.

“So howdidyou mean it?” I manage to say, frustration dripping from every vowel.

His face is impassive but I can tell he is searching for his words, and my throat goes dry while I wait. “I’m not good for you, Luce.”

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