Chapter 135
After I say those damning three words, three things happen. Nathan wrenches his grasp out of Samuel’s and storms out of the ballroom. Peter lets out a feeble, “I choose Eliza Kinsley.” And I stumble numbly out of the ballroom–straight to my room, straight to the bathroom to throw up my breakfast.
When that’s done and my stomach is raw and my throat burns with acid, the tears follow.
It’s like someone turns on a faucet behind my eyelids, and whatever fluids weren’t expelled through my esophagus are expelled through my tear ducts.
Finally, I grab a pillow and release muffled screams into it.
Vomit. Cry. Scream.
And then–bonus option four–I pass out.
The stylists wake me up in the evening, pulling me out of a fever dream that featured Lucas and me driving away in a Just Married carriage while Nathan wept on his knees, shaking his fists at the sky. It was that singular reel, over and over again.
Suffice it to say, the stylists are not happy with my red, splotchy face and the chunks of vomit in my hair because there was nobody to hold it back while I puked.
When they’re done, and I look in the mirror, I’m pissed.
They somehow managed to make me look even more gorgeous than yesterday. There’s absolutely no trace of my vomit–cry–scream session. If anything, it’s like I’m glowing.
My hair is in princess curls down my back, and I’m wearing a little black dress–the little black dress–the one from all the songs and Pinterest inspiration pictures. Ugh.
I look hot. For Lucas.
Thanks to my feverish (blackout) nap, I missed lunch, which is a good thing because my stomach roils with every step I take that brings
me closer to Lucas.
He’s waiting at the foot of the stairs. Although I never went to prom, I imagined scenarios like this–with Nathan, of course–that Disney movie moment where the nerd undergoes her makeover transformation and the male love interest’s jaw is on the floor because, gasp! She was beautiful all along.
Except in this scenario, my legs feel like both lead and jelly with each step. And it’s not the sky–high pencil heels or nervousness. It’s white–hot, volatile repulsion.
“April,” Lucas murmurs with a smile when I finally stand before him, “you’re stunning.”
He reaches for my hand, and I snatch it away, hiding it behind me.
“Don’t touch me.” It’s supposed to come out as a warning hiss, but it ends up sounding like a pathetic whimper,
Lucas doesn’t break stride; his mask doesn’t fall.
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Chapter 135
“Very well.” He gestures in the direction of the door. “After you.”
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I glance towards the west wing, longing and regret twisting in my stomach. Part of me wants Nathan to appear at the steps and stop me, stop this
But he doesn’t, and the other part of me who made this fucking ridiculous decision is glad.
When Lucas opens the passenger door for me like the fake gentleman he is, I wait till he leaves before sliding in, closing the door myself.
The engine purrs to life, but the blood roaring in my ears is louder. I’m in a confined space with Lucas, and no part of me is happy with
- it.
My palms sweat, and I rub them against my sheer tights, willing my pounding heart to calm the fuck down.
We’ve been driving for about ten minutes when Lucas speaks.
“Are you sharing the seat with a ghost?”
I blink, forcing my gaze on him.
“What?” My voice is hoarse and trembles in a way I hate. I don’t want him to see the effect he has on me, but hiding it is a herculean
task.
He reaches out, and I flinch, pressing harder into the door I’ve been hugging for the past ten minutes.
He rolls his eyes, patting the empty part of the seat. “This is where you sit on,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining calculus to a puppy. “Not the door handle.”
I roll my eyes, turning away.
He chuckles dryly. “Just don’t accidentally open the door and roll out. Nathan would probably make good on his threats to kill me.”
The mention of his name is like a bee sting right on my heart.
“Don’t I swallow hard. “Don’t talk about Nathan.”
“And why is that, April?”
When I turn to Lucas again, it’s to shoot him a glare. “How about you just not talk altogether?”
He shoots me a side glance, amusement twisting his lips–the kind a lion would probably have while watching a deer dance the macarena. Before it pounced,
But he doesn’t say anything till we arrive at the restaurant.
The valet opens the door, and I step out. Lucas comes to stand by me, looking out at the marquee of the building before us.
“Adalina,” he muses. “You know this is where Valerie and Nathan went on their date?”
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Chapter 135
I find it ridiculous, ironic, and downright absurd that even in this situation, in this awful moment, I have it in me to feel jealous about Nathan and Valerie’s date.
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Hypocritical bitch, April.
I wonder what Nathan is doing right this moment. Is he playing games on his state–of–the–art consoles? Doing homework? Watching a movie? Doing anything and everything to distract him from the thought of me and Lucas out on a date?
Or, like me, is he staring up at the ceiling, his eyes like projectors, playing different wild, ridiculous scenarios of how the date could go? Is he thinking that, unlike him, who had no choice in his date with Valerie, I made the choice to go out with Lucas?
Oh, Nathan.
Even though we hardly see each other during the day in the mansion, I don’t think I’ve missed him as much as I do now. I just hope it worked. I hoped I managed to save him from-
Lucas hand on my lower back is like being prodded with an electric rod–and it doesn’t produce the delicious electricity being with Nathan does. Just a thousand volts of unadulterated fear.
When he smiles at me, I think that he would look good with fangs, like the predator he is.
“Shall we?”
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7 days ago
when will the next update be? on the edge of my seat here.
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