Page 30 of The Deception: Hercules Valentine and I
He’s staring deeply into my eyes without saying a word. I chuckle nervously, but not even that draws him out of his prolonged stare.
“So.” I look down, breaking eye contact on purpose.
“So, Lark—” He sets his glass on the bar.
I look up. “Yes?”
His slow smile builds. “Are you telling me you want to be an artist?”
I laugh, thinking about what Lake did with that random painting she and I made. I could never do that. “I don’t think so. I’m still pretty pragmatic.”
He opens his legs some more as he leans toward me. “Lark, what would you do with another chance?”
I perk up. “Another chance?”
“If you could be anything else, what would you be?”
I grunt thoughtfully. “Oddly, I’ve never given that any thought. I guess…” My eyebrows crush into a frown. The reason resides several layers beneath my surface, and I can’t seem to reach it. “Well, I…” I rub the side of my face anxiously.
“It’s okay, Lark. This isn’t a pop quiz.”
His smile is easy, and that relaxes me. “An archeologist,” I blurt.
“Ha—nice.” He nods, impressed.
“Yeah, I like the idea of finding something old and discovering human history.”
He snorts. “Yeah, I just discovered mine. You think you know what you know, but the truth isn’t always so cut-and-dried.”
“I get that,” I say, nodding.
“You do?”
“It’s like, the past is no different from now because we never change. We are human. The past isn’t grand—it’s real.”
Again, he’s staring into my eyes.
“What?” I ask.
Just before I can look down again, he gently places his fingers under my chin. “You’re so pretty, Lark.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. My heart is beating like crazy, my lady parts throbbing.
Our lips are drawing closer to each other. His brows crimp as his eyes dart around my face. I’m dangerously close to him, but I don’t care.
“I feel like—” he whispers.
“Mr. Hercules Valentine,” a woman says over the loudspeaker.
People clap. I sit up straight, but he doesn’t. All eyes are on him and then me as applause fills the room. His name is called again as the winner for the abstract featuring me and Lake.
Still watching me as if he has something to say, Hercules stands up. Then he walks to wherever his name is being called. As soon as the applause stops, I feel so abandoned by him.
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