“There’s nothing professional about how I feel towards you.” His touch finds my hip. “When you smile at everyone but me, there’s this part right here,” he lightly bangs on his chest. “Thatstings.”
“Use me, Nova.” His palm brands my pelvis. Head dropped on my shoulder. “Love, fun, experience, whatever it is. Can’t it beme?”
I’m squeezing his biceps, all of me tearing apart because he sounds like heneedsme.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt.” We spring apart, or well I try to push Dean away, but he doesn’t seem particularly concerned about the intrusion. He takes his time lifting his head and turning it, all whilenever loosening his grip on me.
Irene stands at the kitchen door, a knowing tilt to her lips. “I kind of need to talk to both of you about something.”
“Oh,” I try to push Dean away, but he doesn’t budge. “Did we do something wrong?”
“No, no!” She fully enters the kitchen, eyeing both of us. “Just wanted to let you know that the show started airing two weeks ago and people are rooting for you,” she emphasizes by directing her attention at me. “and Rhysand,” she looks at Dean. “You and Katarina.”
His touch flexes.
I don’t know why, but I cover his hand with my own. “But I haven’t spent much time with Rhys.”
“It’s how the episodes have been edited,” she says with a sigh. “This means we have to play with it, find a way to get you guys?—”
“No,” Dean’s scowling. “I pass.”
“Dean,” I warn. “We signed a contract.”
“Fuck the contract,” he mutters under his breath before rolling his eyes. But then Irene looks at him long and hard—the business, more strict side of her surfacing. Dean isn’t someone to get easily frightened, but they have a silent, knowing conversation that I’m not a part of.
Irene thinks on her feet. “I don’t want to ruin this experience for you, Dean. Let’s see how this works for the ratings and if it doesn’t do well, I won’t mention it again.”
“Fine, as long as I get to make my final decision.”
When she leaves, I turn my eyes back on Dean. For someone who told his brother I mess everything up and he didn’t want me around, he’s behaving differently. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him about that night. Then again, that night wasn’t a misunderstanding, and all of this can very well be an illusion. After all, Dean Vuk is here to win too.
It's irrational and idiotic, but I can blame it on the shallow migraine episode when I roughly pull away and say, “Enjoy your time with Kat, Dean.”
And when I’m back in my room, staring at my limited options of clothing for today, I’m starting to regret my words but it’s too late to take them back and Nadine always tells me to give people space.
So instead, I get ready for my date with Rhys.
CHAPTER 20
We’re halfway through the orchestrated version ofThe Phantom of the Operawhen I excuse myself to go to the ladies room.
Hiding between a toilet and a stall door is the closest I’m getting to peace around here. Not that I have anyone to blame because I chose this myself.
There’s nothing professional about how I feel towards you.
I lean my back against the stall.
His touch.
I rest a hand over my hip. It doesn’t feel the same.
Seeing an orchestra has been on my bucket list since I first saw my middle school band perform a terrible version of Adele’sHello. Yet, it doesn’t feel special—or worth checking off and I don’t know why.
Rhys yawning twice might have been a reason.
Or the way it doesn’t feel right with him.
Would it feel right with Dean?
