Page 90 of Cinder
Everyone is getting laid.
I glance to my right and see Mrs. V. smiling and uncharacteristically laughing with Mr. Peters the milk delivery man. This has been going on for weeks. They’re like two sharks circling each other, waiting for the other to make a move.
Yep, everyone is getting dick but me.
I put my head down and focus on finishing the dishes. I tell myself I’m not waiting to see Lars. Because I don’t want to see him.I don’t.But if I do, I’ve already decided I’m going to act like last night never happened.
But when the breakfast crowd thins and it becomes clear that he’s not going to show, I feel the disappointment sink in my stomach.
“It’s not unusual, you know?” Mrs. V. says when everyone has gone and the last of the dishes have been put away.
“What isn’t?”
“Lars not showing for breakfast. Sometimes he has to take care of club business late into the night and catches up on his shuteye.”
“Despite what you think, I wasn’t waiting to see him.”
“Yeah, and bears don’t shit in the woods.” Mrs. V. shakes her head. “This is going to be painful to watch.”
“What is?”
“You’re both as bullheaded as each other,” she says, walking away. “Can’t admit to feelings when they’re as bright as sunshine.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I call out after her.
But she doesn’t turn around and disappears out of the kitchen, leaving me alone.
With still an hour left on my shift, I set about tidying the butler’s pantry, putting away the different ingredients I’ve used for breakfast as well as the pots and pans.
I’m reaching on my tiptoes to put away a jar of seasoning when I feel him. It’s like my skin begins to tingle, and I know he’s there before I even see or hear him. I glance over my shoulder and there he is, standing in the doorway looking fifty shades of fucking gorgeous.
Immediately, my defenses go up and I get even busier stacking away the ingredients and arranging the spices.
“Good morning.” The deep timbre of his voice slides over my skin like a slow kiss, and I swallow hard.
“Morning,” I say, concentrating on the spice jars being in perfect alignment. Which no one gives a shit about. But I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“You’re pissed at me,” he says calmly.
“What gives you that idea?”
I’ve now decided the spice jars are going to be arranged alphabetically.
“I can feel the frost over here,” he says.
He steps inside the pantry.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”
“Look at me,” he says.
But I don’t, because if I put the cumin before the basil, the world might end.
“Ella.”
Lars saying my name catches me off guard and I look up.Damn.
I cross my arms as if to protect myself from him. But it’s futile. Nothing could protect me from Lars.
