Page 35 of Tears of Glass

“I’ve made myself look very busy while doing nothing.”

I laugh a little, that sounds like a perfect day.

“Did you sort things out with Elijah?” she asks, her tone innocent.

“No.” Although we did sit on the pavement and he told me he loved me, but it’s too late for that. It will always be too late for that. “No, it’s fine, though. If he’s just the money and he wants to spend it on our venture, then so be it.” My stomach is tangled into knots and berating me for being a liar. Liar liar, pants on fire.

“Good good. Well I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember much about last night so shall I suggest a coffee next week to recap?”

I sigh deeply. “Yes, that sounds good.”

“Excellent. In the meantime, if you keep brainstorming ideas and then we can create a business plan which I can take to the board of execs.”

My eyes widen. Thank God she can’t see. “Sure.”

“Marvellous. Have a good evening, Faith, and I’ll text you about next week.”

“Okay, bye.” I’m slipping out of the conversation before we’ve even disconnected the call.

My hands slip on the phone. What do I know about business plans and television shows? Absolutely nothing.

Unable to stay in the flat for another moment, and not really wanting the time to process just what I’ve got myself into, I gather up my phone and ciggies and chuck them in my bag. Grabbing up my cardigan, I make my way out.

I don’t know what to think about tonight. I don’t know if I’m the right person to help smooth this situation over between Lewis and his father. I’m the tattooed artist who seems to have tangled everyone into her web of destruction.

My feet stumble as I swing my way out of the block’s front door, where I find a gleaming MG parked on the road parallel to the front steps.

The passenger window rolls down and Elijah’s dark head of hair peeks over from the driver’s side. My stomach does world class somersaults as my gaze—albeit a furious one—lands on his handsome face. If he could manage to be a little less handsome it would make my need to disembowel him with a spoon slightly easier. “What do you want?” I almost growl the words. He’s looking all casual chic in a crew neck, with what looks like a lambswool jumper on. In the dark shadows of the car, I can see crisp indigo denim hug his thighs.

“I’m your ride.” He flashes me his megawatt smile. Last time I saw that smile it was attached to him standing on that stage at the Bowsley Ball. I turn on my heel and start to walk along the pavement but the MG cruises after me.

“You’re going to get arrested for curb crawling soon and then what will the Faircloughs think?”

“I don’t give a fuck what they think.” I hate the fact my eyes keep wandering to where his slender fingers are loosely gripping the steering wheel, his watch flashing under the street lamps.

“Does your mummy know you use naughty words like that, Elijah?” I’m considering ducking into a Costa Coffee that’s approaching on the right, but his voice cuts through.

“Get in the damn car, Faith.”

“Go to hell, Elijah.” I grit my teeth; my nails are stinging as they dig into my palms.

“Already there, sunshine.”

Shit. I’m locked in some showdown with myself. My body, along with my heart which is pumping faster than a speed train, are telling me to stop and get in the car. My brain, which is the only part of me that’s wired for limited sanity, is telling me to run as fast as I can.

The battle rages another five steps.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One...

He smirks a little as I lean down and catch the handle, pulling the door open. “Wipe that shit off your face.” I glare with as much hatred as I can.

He turns slightly, the car still idling by the side of the road. “I’m going to keep saying sorry until you understand.”