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As she snaps, I feign concern. I frown and give a reassuring motion of my hand, letting her know it’s okay.
“You’re right,” I say. “I overstepped my place. I shouldn’t have tried to analyze you like some amateur armchair psychiatrist. It was presumptuous of me. I guess that’s what I get for listening to one too many psychiatry podcasts.”
I end my non-apology apology with a self-depreciating laugh that sounds as sincere as my words.
Though neither are.
Lyra melts. Her spark extinguishes. She gives a laugh like mine, soft and unassuming. “We’re even. I’m sorry I went from zero to sixty out of nowhere. That happens when I take my meds. I can get cranky.”
It sounds like these meds are no good for you. Mental note: research more about her off-the-street prescriptions.
“It’s quite alright,” I say. “I’d love to hear you play. If you’re open to that.”
She scratches her neck and then slides her hand around to rub at her nape. “I don’t play often… not anymore. The only place I’ve been playing lately is at the Velvet Piano, and I doubt I’ll be there much longer. I haven’t won a duel yet.”
“The Velvet Piano? I love that place.”
Lies. LIES.
“I must’ve come by on the nights you’re off. When do you duel?”
“Well… tonight, actually. But don’t come. I suck.”
I laugh. “I’m sure you’re amazing. You have a piano tattoo and you’ve been playing since you were a small child. I bet you’re being modest.”
“Really not. But if you want to check it out, then that’s on you. Just don’t expect me to do well,” she says, reaching for her phone. “I was supposed to be job hunting today for a reason.”
“I won’t make any promises, but if I’m in the area, I’ll drop by. That way it’s no pressure. We should exchange numbers.”
Her eyes pop up from the phone she holds in her hands and onto me. Surprise lights up in her gaze. She wasn’t expecting me to ask for her number.
“Is that okay?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. “I’ve really enjoyed our impromptu late-afternoon lunch date, and you’re pretty interesting. I’d like to keep in touch.”
She licks her lips, and her full mouth seems to be on the cusp of asking something.
Why?!
It almost makes me laugh in a patronizing way. Lyra Hendrix can tell we’re from different worlds. I exist in an entirely different universe than she does… and she’s right to think so. However, it’s not often people take an interest in her. It’s not often she takes an interest in people either. Despite this, an inkling tells me she’d like to keep in touch too.
I really can read her like a book. What’s more, I’ve begun tounderstandher, and the way her brain works.
She’s a loner at heart. Meaning, new connections startle her. New connections are a big deal.
“Sure,” she says finally. “Yeah, okay. But I mostly text. No calls.”
“Sounds perfect. I’m usually too busy with work for calls.”
We part ways with me intentionally noncommittal about showing up tonight for her performance (though, of course, I’ll be there). I insist Lyra take the platters of uneaten food on our table home. She pretends she doesn’t want to before ultimately obliging. I stand outside the restaurant and watch her walk in the opposite direction clutching a small grocery of takeout bags.
Now she’ll have the food she was worrying about.
Whoever said I was a bad man?
At least I feed my prey before devouring them.
* * *
Celeste is waiting for me in my penthouse. I know she’s in my home before even seeing her.
