Page 18 of Shattered Sinner
BIANCA
Ihesitated slightly before I took a deep breath. I hated that I could only prolong this for so long. The only way to do this was to force myself to walk toward the coffee shop where Easton and I agreed to meet after I texted him yesterday evening. I shivered slightly when I exhaled and watched my breath leave my lips. It was a chilly day in Brentson, with the forecast calling for snow this evening. The quicker I got out of the cold air, the better.
This would be a pretty short meeting about the psychology project that we needed to wrap up soon. As I rushed into Beyond The Page, I thought about how I didn't want to get caught out in any bad weather if I could avoid it. The first thing that greeted me was the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and I couldn’t wait to get a cup.
My eyes danced around the shop until I spotted Easton sitting at a small table by the window. It took him a moment, but he looked up when he saw me walking toward him. I somehow made my body continue moving without hesitation when his eyes met mine. The neutral expression that masked my thoughts about being in his presence once more was firmly set upon my face. The poker face I’d strengthened over the years of having to live in the public eye had come in handy this evening.
"Hey," he said, standing up to greet me.
"Hi," I said in return. I tried my best to sound casual, but I wasn’t sure if I was giving a convincing performance. "Thanks for meeting me."
"Of course. How are you doing?"
I took a seat across from him and shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. You?"
"Same," he grunted while running a hand through his hair. “Listen, Bianca, about what happened—”
“This isn’t what we are supposed to be talking about right now,” I interrupted. “We’re here to work on our psychology project, remember?”
There were other things I wanted to talk about too, but I wanted to do it in a more casual way. This wasn’t the right time to ask him about the Chevaliers and what he might know.
“I think, after today, there shouldn’t be much more we need to talk about outside of collaborating on the final presentation.”
Thank goodness for that.
We ordered our drinks and continued to discuss the project, bouncing ideas off each other and taking notes based on what we’d come up with. Our focus on the project masked the tension that was simmering beneath the surface. But every once in a while, my eyes would meet his green ones, a silent dance that expressed so much of what we wanted to say out loud but couldn’t.
I checked my watch and realized I had about ten minutes left before I needed to leave and still hopefully avoid the storm. I needed to make my move and shift the conversation quickly. When there was a lull in our conversation about the project, I leaned forward in hopes of trying to keep my voice down so no one around us could hear what we were saying.
“So I heard you are trying to become a Chevalier.”
Easton’s eyes snapped up to me in a flash, and I could see the surprise and disbelief in them. I hadn’t been a hundred percent sure about the meaning behind the small slip Nash had made when he spoke to me the day before, but now, I was positive. This might all work in my favor.
“What did you hear?” he asked as if he was being careful with the words he was choosing to say.
I, too, concentrated on my next words because I didn’t want to make a mistake. “Nothing much. Just that.”
“I’m not supposed to be talking about any of this with you,” he said firmly.
Excellent. The taste of this small victory was more than sweet. While Easton spoke, oblivious to the mistake he’d made, I fought to hold back my grin. His subtle confirmation was more than enough.
“Why? Why now? I assume you had the opportunity to join your freshman and sophomore year.”
“I didn’t actually.”
That was strange for multiple reasons, including his connection to Nash, but also his family’s status. I couldn’t help but wonder why now?
However, none of that mattered. What mattered was what he could potentially do to help me find Iris.
“Why are you wondering about my involvement with the Chevaliers, Bianca?”
I leaned back in my chair and picked up the pen I’d been using to write notes about our project. I rolled the pen once and then twice between my fingers before I answered.
“I think there’s something you might be able to help me with in exchange for leaking the photos of me.”
There. I said it.
“I didn’t leak any photos, and I’m going to prove that I didn’t.”
