My stomach protested again. “No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Hey, stop stretching my sweatshirt.” My back was plastered against his front in a very inappropriate stop-thinking-naughty-thoughts way.
Before I could say anything more, he was releasing me, grabbing two packages of ramen, and teaching me exactly how to cook it on the spot in that little store like a pro.
Minutes later, I was attempting to use chopsticks in the seating area in the corner and slurping noodles into my mouth as fast as humanly possible. “Let’s never leave this place.”
“Wow, all it took was ramen.” He blew on his noodles.
I looked away from his red lips.
And stared into my bowl.
“Good?” he asked, sounding pleased with himself as I looked up and locked eyes with him.
“Very.” I beamed. “Thank you for buying me ramen.”
It almost looked like he was blushing when he fidgeted with his chopsticks and shrugged. “Any time you want ramen, I’m your guy.”
Part of me felt like I wasn’t picking up on something, but I Ignored it as we fell into comfortable conversation.
I was suddenly glad he’d forced me to get toothpaste with him because at least we could bury the hatchet.
I asked questions.
And he was open about everything.
For the first time since landing, I felt like I’d finally found a friend. I just wished he wasn’t so famous or so distracting to look at.
“Ready?” he asked after dumping our bowls ten minutes later.
“Let’s go.” I fell into step beside him and didn’t miss the way his fingertips grazed my lower back or the way they burned through my sweatshirt, engraving their presence onto my skin.
Friends. Just. Friends.
Chapter Twenty-One
A little competition never hurt anyone
Lucas
They still weren’t back.
Why the hell had Rae taken her out anyway? After I was done recording for an hour, I went to the piano and sat. Sookie was in his room playing a video game. Jay was drawing—something he always did when he was deep in thought or stressed out. Kai was chatting with Solia on the phone since he’d forgotten to ask her about something, so his door was closed.
And Rae was with Grace.
By himself.
With Grace.
Why did it bother me so much?
Was he apologizing? Should I be apologizing to her too? Why was I even asking such a dumb question? I’d seen the hurt in her eyes, the way the light just left them the minute she knew I’d been lying to her. At first, it was more of a let’s irritate the new intern, so she quits thing, and then it turned into wanting to hear her thoughts out loud without her guarding them.
I had taken it too far.
I knew that now.
I just didn’t know how to tell her without making it worse or sounding selfish—what would make it even more detrimental to my sanity was if she felt sorry for me if she pried me open and saw the desolation.
The depression.
Because happy people like Grace had a way of doing that, of making people want to confess everything in hopes that they catch just a little bit of the happy person’s joy.
I sat at the piano and started to play Walk Through Fire by Zayde Wolf and Ruelle.
“Did we throw it all away…” I crooned, and then I was lost in the music again as I continued to play out my emotions, about walking through fire, finding a way out, feeling trapped.
Whenever I played this song, I imagined myself crawling across the ground searching for peace, searching for someone to give me their hand, to pull me to safety where I could breathe, where there was a calm to the storm inside me.
The problem was the only way out was through.
And I was so fucking tired of stumbling through only to feel like it was helpless.
Tears welled in my eyes.
I never let them fall.
I didn’t cry.
I just sucked them back in—one day, I’d probably implode; it couldn’t be good to keep them in, but when had they ever done anything other than make me feel weak?
I knew I wasn’t the only idol who felt this way.
So many celebrities felt like they were trapped, and I was lucky enough to be at a good label, one who didn’t work us to death. So on top of feeling like shit, I felt guilty that I was in this state.
It was a vicious, never-ending cycle.
I pounded on the keys, singing at the top of my lungs like nobody else was in that part of the apartment. Then I hit the last key.
“Are you going to yell at me if I tell you that was wonderful?” came Grace’s voice from the hall.
My first instinct was to do just that, and then I saw that her cheeks were wet with tears.
Was it so wrong to wish that those tears were for me, that even if I couldn’t express myself, I could bring her to them?