Page 15 of Reconnected Hearts
Wow, this suite is huge.
Lucy drops her bag on the floor and turns to face me, her expression a mix of confusion and frustration. "Why did you accept the room switch so quickly?" she asks, her tone more curious than accusatory.
I pause, considering her question. "I guess I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it," I admit, shrugging my shoulders. "It's been a long day, and I figured it would be easier to just go with the flow."
Lucy nods, but there's still a hint of discontent in her eyes. "I get that, but..." She hesitates, as if searching for the right words. "I didn't appreciate how you spoke to the receptionist about me, like I'm some sort of…crazy person."
I wince, realizing how my words must have sounded. "I'm sorry, Lucy. Really. I didn't mean to imply that you're crazy. I was just caught off guard by the whole situation."
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I know I can be a bit... intense sometimes. But I don't like being made out to be the bad guy, especially in front of strangers."
I nod, feeling a pang of regret. "You're right. I shouldn't have spoken about you like that. It was disrespectful, and I apologize. But, in my defence, you had just said to the lady that you would claw your own eyes out if you ever looked at me in a romantic way…"
Lucy looks at me and bites down on her plump lip. My eyes seem to be fixated on her mouth. She mulls over my words for a moment before giving a small nod. "Thank you, Noah. I appreciate your apology. And I guess I was alittleout of line, too." She holds her head back for a moment and breaths deeply. “I’m almost hoping that I do miss this wedding. It’s my dad’s third one, and it will be terribly painful,” she explains, then waves her hands around.
“Sorry, it’s nothing for you to think about. My problem.”
I’m tempted to ask more but something in her tone tells me this isn’t the right time.
Wanting to lighten the mood, I tilt my head and give her a playful smile. "So, does this mean we're roommates now? Should we establish some ground rules, like no leaving dirty socks on the floor and no hogging the TV remote?"
Lucy rolls her eyes, but I catch a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "How about we start with you sticking to your side of the room and I mine?" she suggests, raising an eyebrow.
I chuckle, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough. I think I can manage that."
As Lucy retreats into the bedroom, I hoist my bag over my shoulder and make my way to the couch. It's not going to be the most comfortable night's sleep, but at least we've managed to clear the air a bit.
I settle onto the couch, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. It's been a roller coaster of a day, but maybe, just maybe, Lucy and I can find a way to coexist without constantly butting heads. My mind wanders to Lucy, the bedroom door is ajar, and I can see her moving around swiftly. She reaches up into a cabinet and her top rides up exposing the small of her back. Looking away, I shift discreetly on the sofa, clenching my jaw against the sudden tightness in my jeans.
I need a drink.
I wander into the kitchen and find the fridge to be fully stocked with those tiny bottles that I haven’t even considered touching since my prom night, when I booked a room for my date and myself. I know I’m not seventeen anymore, but I vaguely remember the receptionist mentioning that any and everything in the room was comped, so I really only have one option here.
I grab as many shooters as I can hold and approach the back bedroom, where Lucy sits on top of a white duvet, typing away on her phone. I stop in the opening and do my best to knock on the door with my elbow, since my hands are otherwise incapacitated. When she looks up, I hold the bottles in the air and smile warily.
“Peace offering?”
She watches me for a moment, just as apprehensive as I am, before she finally nods and tosses her phone behind her.
I sit on the floor with my back pressed against the foot of the bed and crane my neck up to look at her as I pass a couple of the bottles. We both tear open the lids and nurse our drinks in silence. Every few moments, I think maybe I ought to say something, but then I change my mind. She doesn’t want to be friends or hear anything from me—she’s made that painfully clear. Still, some instinct in me wants to make her like me. I just have no cluewhy. I click through a few playlists on my phone and pick one I think is the most universally liked, a mixture of pop and rap music. We fall into a comfortable sort of companionship, listening to music and thinking. I am thinking of all the job applications I’m going to have to do when I get home. It is exhausting constantly applying, putting yourself out there, making it to interview and then being rejected. Or missing your interview because of an unfortunate series of bad luck.
“You think I’m a bitch, don’t you?” Lucy asks sometime after I’ve returned from the third—fourth?—trip to the fridge for more refreshments. Maybe it’s the way the world is slowly starting to blur around the edges, or maybe it’s the sadness in her voice, but I sit up from where I’ve been lounging on the floor, whirl around, and shake my head. So what if, realistically, the thought of her being not-so-pleasant has crossed my mind a time or two today?
“I don’t, Lucy,” I say. “Seriously. I think you’re stubborn, and…yeah, maybe you can be a little harsh, but hey—me too, right? None of that stuff makes you a bitch. You just know what you want is all. I know that I sucked in college. I was a douche,” Her eyes widen, and she leans forward. “I…I wasn’t used to the attention, and I loved it. Home life sucked, and college felt like an escape for me. It isn’t an excuse I know that. But I’ve changed since then, I promise. I’ve tried to be nice to you now. If you’d just give me a chance, I’m sure I can convince you I’m really not such a bad guy.” I take another long sip, too used to the foul taste to even wince at the way it burns my throat. I haul myself up onto the bed next to her and sigh heavily. “Ya know somethin’? IwishI were half as confident as you are. Maybe then my life wouldn’t be such a mess.”
The confession feels easy to make to Lucy. I hide my current situation from some of my college friends, worried about what they’ll think of me. But she already thinks the worst of me, so what’s there to lose?
Lucy’s head tilts diagonally, and her brows furrow in a way that makes this entirely too adorable crease appear between them. I want to reach out and run my thumb across it until it smooths out, but I resist. Instead, I focus on the way some of her perfect, coily curls drape over her forehead and down her neck. Some of the strands have escaped from the knot she’s tied them up into atop her head. They look so soft and shiny. My fingers start to twitch toward her, but I manage to stop myself at the last minute, forcing myself to look away as she hums sadly.
"Your life's not a mess," she says softly. "You've got that fancy interview, don't you? What's it even for, anyway?"
"It's for some big corporate insurance firm," I reply, bracing myself for her reaction.
Lucy scrunches her face in distaste. "I know, I know. It isn't anything exciting, but the pay jump would be huge, plus the employee benefits are great and..." I trail off, noticing the look of disbelief on her face.
"So... that's what you want to do? Be an 'insurance broker'?" she asks, her tone skeptical.
I feel my defences rising. "No, Lucy, I don't. I want to teach kids. I want to go back to college and retrain as a teacher. I want to inspire kids like my sisters, to help out the next generation and have stability. But I can't, not yet."
