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Oh my God. The pastry is flaky, buttery goodness, and the chocolate is a thick, sweet frosting that combines perfectly with the airy cream.
Pulling the plate closer to me, I start shoveling it in, just like Tate did, though with a tad more decorum. I don’t stop until the éclair is gone, and I fleetingly wonder if he’d judge me for picking up the plate and licking it.
Realizing he’d most definitely judge me, I decide against it.
“I guess you liked it,” he says once I’m finished and taking a sip of my latte.
“It was delicious.”
He smiles, and it hits me that he never answered my question. If he actually feels that way for me, like how he described in his song. Maybe he avoided the question because the truth is he doesn’t feel that way. Not even close. It’s all a show he’s putting on for the public to get more likes. To make more money. To get further ahead in his revitalized career.
I guess I don’t blame him. He destroyed himself, and now he’s the proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes. People rarely get a second chance, so he needs to take advantage of it.
I completely understand.
I do.
“Look.” His gaze meets mine when I first speak, and I offer him a weak smile. “I know you said you wanted another chance to speak to me, and I appreciate it. I do. Maybe you wanted to apologize for what happened. Or for the song. But you don’t have to. I’m not mad. Hopefully we can look back at this small moment in time someday with fondness and remember how silly it all was. And you’ll have your career back, bigger and brighter than ever.”
I push my chair back and rise to my feet, slinging my bag over my shoulder, noting how his gaze stays locked on me the entire time. “I wish you nothing but success, Tate,” I murmur to him.
Just as I turn and practically run out of the restaurant.
CHAPTER13
TATE
I sit there for a moment, processing what she said, before I’m spurred into action and leap to my feet, chasing after her. The server yells out a “hey” as I start to exit through the café’s front door, and I stop, reaching for my wallet. Slapping a couple of twenties on the hostess stand before I hightail it out of there.
The second I’m outside, I stop in front of the café and whip my head left, then right. Then left again, squinting as I see the back of a familiar dark head walking at a pretty fast clip. I launch after her, calling her name, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me.
And I know she has to hear me.
I push my way through the crowded sidewalk until I’m practically right beside her, keeping pace with her brisk walk. “Where are you going?”
“I’m trying to leave this... meeting with some dignity.” She lifts her chin, putting on the haughty princess act.
Can’t deny it—she’s pretty fucking hot when she’s rocking that vibe.
“Meeting? Dignity?” I’m so fucking confused. “What happened back there?”
“Absolutely nothing.” She comes to a complete stop in the center of the sidewalk, and I do too, people pushing past us, annoyed that we’re blocking them. “And that’s fine. Really.”
No, it’s definitely not fine. I don’t get why she keeps saying stuff like that.
“Be real with me, Scar.” I reach out, lightly grabbing hold of her elbow, and electricity sparks where my fingers press into her soft skin. “What’s wrong?”
She turns her head to the side, her lips pressed together. It’s like she doesn’t want to look at me, and she even tugs her arm out of my grip. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“If you actually felt that way about me. When you were describing the song earlier.” She fully faces me once more, and she looks like she could crumple under the pressure at any moment. As if she’s on the verge of tears. “It’s okay if you were just caught up in an idea. I know the reality isn’t as great as the fantasy.”
I’m frowning. Is that what she really believes?
“Come on. You don’t really like me like that.” I frown. “Do you?”
She wraps her arms around her middle, as if she’s cold. “No. I barely even know you.”
