Page 41 of Somewhere Only We Know
“Grape juice?” I made a face.
“You know what I mean,” she said as the line moved and we both shuffled ahead. “Don’t avoid the question.”
I shrugged. “I don’t remember praying. And I really don’t know what I would pray for.” It was true. When I watched everyone in the temple offering up their prayers or wishes or whatever it was, I felt so detached.
“What about getting into the college you want?”
“I don’t know which college I want to go to,” I said.
She shook her head. “I don’t get that. I have a list of wishes a mile long.”
That didn’t surprise me. I also suspected she made sure her wishes happened. Like being a famous performer.
“And, I am being selfish today,” she added with a raised eyebrow. “Ditching choir duties and everything to hang out withyou.”
“See? Selfishness is a good thing,” I said, happy to ease the mood. Something about this conversation was unsettling and I didn’t want her to get to me. I had to stay in control of this, our interactions.Shewas the one being observed.
Lucky shot me a dubious look and I said, “I’m serious! Because you’ll have this break, this nice day. And then you’ll go back to choir, fresh with… energy. Bring the entire mood of the choir up.”
She let out a snort of laughter, her arms crossed as we shuffled forward. “Like, I go into practice doing cartwheels, high on carbs.”
That made me laugh—suddenly and very loudly.
Lucky beamed at me. “I like making you laugh.”
The words paired with her smile did all sorts of weird things to me. I cleared my throat, suddenly aware that the plastic bag of bao was empty and I had no more weight to swing around in my hands. “I have a terrible sense of humor.”
“Well, if you don’t laugh at my jokes, then yeah. Agreed.” She turned around then, her hair whipping through the air. I watched her watch the crowd in front of us, as she stood high on her toes to assess the length of the line ahead.
Something was looser in Lucky’s limbs. Direct in her gaze. Seeing her like this—scrubbed of her glamorous persona and getting more comfortable with me—I could almost forget who she was. Almost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LUCKY
I was pretty sure I was going to die on this tram.
Why wasn’t everyone else on this jalopy losing their ever-loving minds like me? People were jammed into this wooden antique toy, excited and taking selfies and pressing their faces against the windows as we crept up a nearly vertical mountainside. Visions of cables snapping and the tram plummeting down amid the screams of the trapped humans inside made me sweat.
I pressed my hip firmly into Jack’s side and then glanced up at him. “Hey. Don’t get any funny ideas,” I said.
Jack held on to a pole and didn’t move a muscle in response. “Yes, I got the memo the first three times you said it.”
His arm was grazing my hair and I felt a pleasant warmth radiate off his body. Even when sweating in an overheated tram, Jack didn’t smell bad.
In fact, he smelled good. Really, terribly good.
Lucky. Do not have your sexual awakening on this tram, please.Today wasn’t forromance. It wasn’t for some thirst liberation.
It was for me.
Who says a quality life can’t have some selfishness in it?Despite the cynical feel of Jack’s mini lecture, I couldn’t help but turn these words over and over in my head.
When did I start to feel discontent about being “Lucky”? If I truly thought about it, maybe for a year now. And ever since then, I had been enduring it, not speaking up when I was tired or unhappy. All out of this idea of being “good.” A good idol to my fans. A good daughter to my parents. A good client to my managers.
But was it possible to have both? Freedomandthis career?
When a bracing wind whipped through the cracked-open window of the tram, I let myself take a deep breath and focus on the views rather than my jumbled thoughts. And the sheer terror of the physics-defying tram ride.
