Page 67 of The Season
Antoine’s paltry effort at a smile falls, and Lily drops her hands to narrow her eyes at me accusingly.
“Youwerelistening. I knew it.”
Oh. Oops.
I give a one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe. We share a room, after all.”
Lily shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”
“Honey,” I say, switching to English. My French doesn’t come quite as naturally as Lily’s does, at least not after a glass of wine. I reach across the table, covering Lily’s hand with my own. “What’s bothering you? Talk to me.”
Beside her, Antoine fixes her with an expectant stare, practically vibrating with tension beneath his cable-knit sweater.
Lily casts a nervous glance down the hallway, but Eddie is in the shower, and Liam and Matty are both in their respective rooms, doors shut. Probably making the most of the rare moment of solitude to relieve some tension, considering Eddie’s been in the shower for about half an hour now. But I won’t tell Lily that.
“I just feel so terrible,” she whispers, following me and slipping back into English. Her gaze drops to our joined hands. “I…” She shakes her head, then gives me a pleading look. “Did I ever tell you about everything that happened before I came out here? With my boyfriend, I mean. Well, ex-boyfriend. And my friends?”
“No.” I give her a gentle smile, my heart thundering with anticipation.
For the past couple weeks, our conversations have been, not superficial, exactly, but definitely lighthearted. We talked about books and the mountain, about travel and food, music and movies. All the things that let you peer into another person’s soul, without really telling you aboutthem.
This, right here, this is a step toward something new. Something deeper.
“Tell me,” I say, squeezing her hand in my own.
I want to know everything about you.I want to know what darkness you’ve seen, so I can understand why you burn so bright.
Chapter21
Lily
“Lily, he fucking groomed you.”
Seth’s eyes are blazing with a fury that is completely at odds with the calm, sweet guy I’ve come to know. I stare at him wide-eyed, clutching my nearly empty wineglass in both hands, and try not to flinch at his words, at the hard edge to his voice.
That… that is not the response I was expecting after telling him and Antoine about my dating history. About Steve—my first real boyfriend—and all the guys I couldn’t muster up a spark of attraction for, but led on anyways.
“Um… what?” My voice comes out small sounding, a weak warble that should be reserved for damsels in distress. Not independent women making their own way in the world.
“Oh,ma puce,” Antoine murmurs.
The rickety wooden chair scrapes across linoleum as he edges closer to me, close enough that he can wrap one strong arm around my shoulders, rest the side of his head against my own. I sigh into his embrace, my eyelids fluttering closed for a brief moment.
It’s the first time he’s hugged me since everything happened a few days ago. Since I stopped sitting between him and Seth on the couch, cuddling and listening to Antoine read to us. It feels right. Like coming home.
“You were seventeen years old,” Seth continues. “What a fucking creep. And then to feed you all that bullshit about nonmonogamy…”
I shake my head, my lips pulling into a frown. I’m not some victim. That isn’t me. If anything, it’s the opposite—Ihurtpeople.
“But I did it too,” I argue, stiffening defensively in Antoine’s hold. “It wasn’t just him that was nonmonogamous. I kissed a few guys while Steve and I were together. I went on dates and flirted. And then after we broke up, I kissed a bunch of my friends—even hooked up with some of them—and I wasn’t sure I really felt anything for them. Who does that?”
“Quite a few people, you’d be surprised to know,” Antoine says dryly, speaking in English.
I wave one hand dismissively. Of course I know people have meaningless hookups. I share a room with someone who seems to have at least three a week, and those are just the ones he brings home.
“That’s not what I want though,” I say, my voice suddenly raspy with the admission. I drop my gaze to the table. My wineglass is smudged from how much I’ve been holding it.
“And what do you want, honey?” Seth’s voice is lower than usual, almost gravelly, and when I look up, he’s staring at me with an intensity that has my breath catching in my throat.
