Page 29 of Somewhere Only We Know
There was a flicker of something like jealousy behind her eyes. “High school? Here or in California?”
“Here.”
“Where in Cali are you from, anyway?”
“LA.”
She straightened up. “I knew it. Me too. I’m from LA.”
“For real?”
“Yeah! I grew up there, in Studio City.”
Shewasa Valley girl.
“Cool, I’m from La Cañada.” It was a suburb north of downtown, near the foothills of the Angeles National Forest. A suburb filled withgiant trees and kids taking tennis lessons, headed for Ivy Leagues. It was strangely serendipitous, both of us growing up in such placid suburbs, finding ourselves sharing congee seven thousand miles away.
“Wow. What a coincidence, don’t you think?” she asked, her chin slipping back down into her palm, her dark eyes staring up at me.
Everything she did was kind of perfect, and it didn’t seem practiced somehow. But she was a performer. Maybe the beauty of her performance was the belief that what you were seeing was real.
And it was kind of a weird coincidence. One that made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t the one being interviewed here. The less she knew of me, the better. “Where do you live now? Seoul?” I asked, taking a sip of tea, extremely aware of how close her forearms were to my fingers.
Another moment of silence as her mind whirred, strategizing, already thinking five steps ahead and making decisions based on where she wanted to land. “Yes. I moved there a few years ago.”
I nodded. “How old areyou, then?” Seventeen. She was seventeen.
“I’m also eighteen.”
My hand stilled over the teacup. Liar. “You are?”
“Yeah. Why, do I look older?” Her tone was teasing now, and I suddenly felt a flash of heat in my cheeks. Why did she get the upper hand so often when I was the one who held all the cards?
Time to flip this. My fingers brushed against her arm, ever so casually, as I moved the teacup a little. “Not old. But you look like you’ve seen some life.” My eyelids were lowered. I felt downrightcoy.
And there it was. A sharp intake of breath. Vulnerable-celeb-looking-for-someone-to-see-her-loneliness mode initiated. But then I heard a peal of laughter and my eyes flew back up.
Her cap was pushed so far back on her head that I saw all of her smooth forehead, straight eyebrows, and clear brown eyes. “Is this howyou get girls?” she asked, tapping my wrist with a long, tapered peach nail. “Because, I get it. Woo, must knock them off their feet.”
And for maybe the first time in my entire life, I couldn’t muster any words.
“Check, please!” Lucky called out, holding up a hand. Totally in control.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUCKY
It was immensely satisfying to see this lovely- faced jerk look flabbergasted for even a second.
I took a moment’s pleasure in it as I waved down the server for our check. I looked at Jack with a lazy, all-too-comfortable speed. “You can pay, right? I don’t have my wallet. S-o-o-orry.”
How great did it feel to bethatgirl? The bratty, spoiled first date getting her way? I never, ever, ever got to behave this way. Being a diva was not a part I was allowed to play.
Jack’s eyes sparked for a second before he shook his head, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. I couldn’t help but notice the way he moved. Fluid, self-assured. I had noticed it last night, even in my haze. The way he slid down onto the low bar stool next to me. His swiftness at shielding my body when we hid in the dark street.How he sprang up in that pile of blankets even while half-asleep. That stretch of forearm as he reached for the check.
Get a grip, Lucky. My attraction to this guy was unsettling. Yeah, he was good-looking. But how many celebrity paths had I crossed in the past couple years? Some of the most gorgeous people in the world. The absolute elite of hotness.
I wondered if it was simply timing and circumstance. He didn’t know who I was. That was a big deal in and of itself. It changed the dynamic from every other guy I had known, immediately.
