Page 21 of Make The Cut

“Now.” I plaster on a sickly sweet smile.

He tilts his head to one side. “That doesn’t sound right. Unless you’re testing out a new nickname. In which case, I get one of my own, Petal.”

Petal. Something in my chest does a cartwheel. While juggling knives and being lit on fire. “Just hand it over, Naoya.”

He doesn’t, instead flipping the case open and turning the page. As he opens his mouth to keep reading, I take a step closer, ready to sacrifice my dignity—and spindly stiletto heels—by jumping up to grab it.

“You’re going to make me lose my place.”

“Andyouare making me lose my mind,” he says, so low that I think I’ve misheard him. His eyes are dark, nearly black, and as he gazes down at me, I feel goosebumps rise on my bare arms. A gasp escapes my lips, and I realize I’m closer to him than I intended to be, the tips of his sneaker-clad feet brushing my toes, bared by my strappy sandals. At this angle, I could—

He gives me the Kindle, and I shove it back into my purse. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He rakes a hand through his hair, looking like he’s just been awoken from a dream by someone dumping cold water on his head.

“Well, I guess I should…” I take a step back and nearly bump into Sasha. “Oh, by the way, this is my friend, Sasha. We were at the tea room together.”

“Nice to meet you.” His smile is polite and cordial. Nothing like the expression on his face only moments prior, when he looked at me like he wanted to swallow me whole.

Whatwasthat?

Chapter Eleven: Naoya Sugawa

Poppy Black is going to be the death of me, for reasons I can’t understand or think too deeply about right now. All I know is that when I’m around her, I want to tease her, to flirt with her until she smiles, to see if her lips are as kissable as they appear–

Friends.

I don’t have many of those. And I need all the friends I can get.

Especially since I’m in a room full of sharks.

Phone cameras flash, partygoers gossip, and more than half of them take advantage of the catering—stuffed mushroom hors d’oeuvres, goat cheese tartlets, and tacos—while the other half drink to excess. The party is in full swing, with a DJ blaring EDM and couples—or single girls—dancing in less-than-appropriate ways on the floor. Decorations are minimalist and sleek, without a streamer or balloon in sight, keeping to the show’s colours of purple, teal, and blue.

However, all I can focus on is the girl in front of me, for reasons other than my usual ones.

There’s something oddly familiar about Sasha that I can’t place. Perhaps it’s the fact that, as she tells me, her father was mostly absent from her life, only dropping in for brief visits, which she gives a resigned shrug at, having accepted her life with an inconsistent parental figure.

I wish I could do the same, but the festering bitterness in my heart refuses to go away.

Maybe it’s something about her appearance. She has a heart-shaped face with a widow’s peak, and dark eyes that hint at Asian descent. “Sasha, I don’t think Poppy told me your last name?”

“Oh, um, it’s Romanoff,” she says, stuttering over the answer. “Sasha Romanoff.”

“This may be rude, but are you Asian, by any chance?” I always hate when people ask thewhere are you from?question to me, so I don’t want to irritate her with it.

“On my dad’s side,” she says quickly. “But I took my mom’s last name since he wasn’t really in the picture when I was growing up.”

“That makes sense,” I say, more to myself than her.

“What did you say?” she peers up at me, confusion pinching her brows.

“Nothing.” I spy Rose across the room, looking ticked off as everyone waits for the timer on the enormous projector to count down to the pilot’s premiere. “It was nice meeting you, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have to go put out a metaphorical fire.”

“Of course.” Sasha Romanoff gives me a shy smile and returns to Poppy, looking relieved to be out of my presence.

I wonder why, but I don’t have much time for wondering as I reach Rose. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. This is my resting face. Oh, by the way, I poached your stylist as my assistant.” She takes a sip of red wine, and the alcohol fumes mingle with her Chanel perfume, making me fight the urge to hack up a lung.

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