Page 73 of Eye of the Beholder

I’m just about to express my most heartfelt thanks—because if I tried to do any of this on my own, it would have been a disaster—when I hear the stairs creaking.

“Oh,” Lydia says, looking over my shoulder and into the hallway. “Cohen must be home.”

I freeze. He can’t see me like this. I don’t know why; I just know that he can’t.

But it’s too late for me to hide; he comes lumbering down the hall. He shoots a look into Lydia’s room, looks away, and then looks back at us again. He stops in his tracks and turns to face us. He comes into Lydia’s room slowly—and completely uninvited, I might add—just staring at me. His hair is wet, like he’s just showered, and he looks exhausted.

I watch him take me in, his eyes traveling slowly from my head to my feet and then back again. Then, to my surprise, I see him turn to Lydia and glare at her. She looks back innocently and shrugs. “She needed to borrow a dress.”

I track their exchange with confusion, but that all flees my mind when Cohen turns his gaze back to me. He approaches me slowly, his eyes searching my face. He reaches out and touches my hair, and I freeze. Then he places his hands gently on my shoulders. He leans in until his lips are by my ear.

“If you’re going out with Jack, I think our mentoring has done its job.” He pauses. “Your last lesson…he might try to kiss you,” Cohen says, his voice barely more than a whisper, his breath hot against my skin. His hands are still on my shoulders, and his thumbs are rubbing lightly over my collarbone. Does he realize he’s doing that? It’s incredibly distracting, reducing my insides to a jittery, frenetic energy. “Don’t let him. Make him work for it.”

I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod. Cohen doesn’t move; he just lingers, and I can’t be sure, but I think his lips brush my ear. After a second he steps back, lets his arms drop, and nods curtly at me. He shoots another glare at Lydia and then leaves us. He goes to his room, closing the door forcefully behind him.

I look at Lydia, but she’s watching Cohen’s now-closed door with a very un-Lydia-like expression of triumph and smugness.

“Um,” I say, and she looks back to me. “I should go,” I say. My voice is shaky. “Jack will come to pick me up in a bit.”

“Right,” Lydia says, shooing me out of her room. “Well, you’re beautiful. Tonight will be fun. Just relax and be yourself.”

Hah. Relax. That’s cute.

I thank her profusely—again—and then make my way back to my house. My mom fusses over how beautiful I am, and even though I try my hardest to convince her she doesn’t need to meet my date, she’s not having any of it.

When the doorbell rings, I open it, and everything seems to be happening very surreally. It’s Jack, obviously—who else would it be?—and he looks gorgeous as always. His smile brings out the dimple I love, and his hair is neatly combed.

“Hi,” I say, smiling at him. Is this really happening? Am I really going on a date with Jack Freeman?

“Hey,” he says, his eyes sweeping over me. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Um”—I step back, gesturing at my mom—“this is my mom.”

“Hi,” Jack says, stepping forward and shaking my mom’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jack,” she says, sweeping her golden hair behind her ear as she smiles at him. “Mina’s so excited to go out with you. Have fun, sweetheart,” my mom says, kissing me on the cheek.

“Who’s at the door?” says my dad, rounding the corner.

Oh, let me die now.

“Mina’s date?” my dad says to my mom, who nods.

“Hi,” Jack says, holding out his hand again.

My dad shuffles further into the room, shaking Jack’s hand. I’m pleased to see that he’s nicer to Jack than he ever was to any of Ruby’s dates.

Jack grins and meets my eyes again as my parents go back into the living room. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I say. And then, out of nowhere, I add, “I do need to be home by ten, though. I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to get done.”

“Oh,” he says, looking slightly disappointed, but then he smiles. “That’s fine. I’ll have you back by ten.”

He offers me his arm, like some regency gentleman, and my heels click on the sidewalk as we go to his car, my mind reeling the whole time.

What’s wrong with me? I don’t need to be home by ten. I don’t have things to do. I mean, I’m halfway through a book, but—

“Mina?” Jack says, looking concerned as we get in the car.

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