Page 40 of Lost
She sighed as she sat on the bed, indicating that Lysander should do the same. He did so, though kept a safe distance from her, not wanting to give her the wrong idea about the sort of guy he was. She looked amused.
“Just needed some peace and quiet for a while,” she explained, gesturing around the room as if the two things would suddenly show themselves. “Parties are great and all, but sometimes the noise can be a bit much.”
“And here I thought you liked to party hard.”
“Who says you can’t party quietly?”
“Y’know,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but there’s never really been a right time for it.” He gave her what he hoped was a dazzling smile. “You have really beautiful eyes.”
“I like you too, Lysander.”
He’d been expecting her to blush, maybe mumble something about how her eyes weren’t that great, but he hadn’t expectedthat. Girls were usually not so bold. In his experience, they usually expected the guy to do all the work — they expected to be chased, they expected love and like to be confessedtothem first and not the other way around.
But Eliza Beth was different.
“Am I that obvious?” he asked, unable to hide his grin. She liked him, too! “Maybe I should have tried to be more subtle.”
“You’re not obvious,” she said, wearing a grin of her own. “Actually, I was just taking a chance there and hoping that I wasn’t about to make a complete fool of myself.”
So she was boldandbeautiful. He moved that little bit closer to her. Without a moment of hesitation she’d moved the rest of the way, leaving hardly any distance between their bodies. If he moved the right way, Lysander’s shoulder would brush against hers.
“You don’t have a girlfriend waiting for you back home, do you?” Eliza Beth asked. “Because that wouldnotbe cool.”
Lysander chuckled. “No. No girlfriend back home. But…” He snaked an arm around her shoulders, his stomach full of butterflies. “I was kind of hoping I’d leave the party with one.”
“Mm, well, you’d best get to work on that, Mr. Maverick.”
She smirked, daring him to make the next move. He stepped up to the challenge.
Kissing Eliza Beth wasn’t like kissing any of the other girls he had back in Columbus. Kissing them had been fun, but it had always been meaningless. Here in Melinda’s bedroom, things felt different. There was meaning to the way their lips moved together, the way their tongues caressed. Kissing her was an accomplishment. He felt a sense of victory. Kissing other girls had always been a satisfying end to a chase, but kissing Eliza Beth was a promise that there would be more to come.
He couldn’t wait to see what it was.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Do you really think it was a good idea to let him go to that party?”
Zack glanced right, to his wife sitting comfortably in the passenger seat. Her golden hair looked stunning, curled to perfection and catching the rays of the setting sun, but the frown on her face marred the rest of her image. Her lips were pursed, her forehead creased. His decision clearly bothered her.
And it bothered him that it bothered her. He’d definitely done something wrong here, hadn’t he? How could that expression mean anything different?
“You don’t agree.” It wasn’t a question. He frowned back at her. “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”
Georgia looked at him. He kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel hers on him as he turned onto the highway. Was she judging him? She had to be.
“He got suspended,” she said. “Forfighting, Zack. If you ask me he should be grounded, not out partying with friends. What kind of message does that send?”
“It sends the message that we understand. He was sticking up for a friend, not causing trouble for the hell of it.” Zack glanced at her again. Her frown had deepened. “The kid’s been through a lot. If you askme, a night out partying with friends sounds like exactly what he needs. And we needed a night out, too.”
He reached across the centre console of his BMW and took Georgia’s hand atop her knee, squeezing it softly before bringing it to his lips so he could brush a gentle kiss across her fingers. Her nails, freshly done in a glittering red gel, sparkled with the remnants of the setting sun as they headed down the Pacific Coast Highway, their destination almost in sight.Hooker reda nasty fan had named the colour after a photograph had circulated online of the pair of them at the Grammys. Georgia’s lips and nails had both been painted in the shade then.
A week later a reporter at another event had asked her what she was wearing. “Hooker red,” she’d replied proudly, doing a little spin in the form-fitting dress that had driven him crazy when she’d first stepped out of the bedroom in it. He’d guessed her intentions the moment he’d seen it. It was ascrew youto the hate she’d been pelted with for years, to the people who called themselves fans but spent most of their time hating on every woman who dared to have a relationship with the band. Zack had been so proud of her that night.
And he was damn proud of the way that dress looked on her again now.
“Hooker red still suits you,” he told her with a wink.
Georgia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now.
