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“Promise you’re not a cult leader?” she asks. “Not at the moment, though I suppose that’s a direction I can explore if the radio thing doesn’t work out.”
And somewhere out there, Lucie is sitting on her kid’s bed. Talking to me.
“Can I help you?” The words sound clumsy as they trip out of my mouth, but she doesn’t seem to notice, still staring at the sign. “With a root canal?” she asks, distracted. I laugh. “I don’t think you want me in your mouth.”
She laughs and my head cocks to the side. That sound is familiar. A wisp of smoke I can’t quite get a hold of. Maybe in another life I was a person who was capable of having a reasonable in-person conversation with a stranger.
I realize three things in the span of two heartbeats. Her eyes are the exact green of Hedera canariensis, the ivy my dad planted in my parents’ front yard. He makes me stand with him and examine it every time I go over there, listing off botanic factoids like an encyclopedia. The name patch sewn onto the front of her jacket says Lu in short, neat letters. I know where I’ve heard that laugh before.
COME HERE, it says. I point at my chest. His smile twitches wider. Who else? that face says. He scribbles on his notepad some more. COME HERE, PLEASE
“I didn’t mean to do anything. I was just talking to you.” “And I was just talking to you.” He studies me, his pretty eyes assessing.
“We had a visitor at the station tonight. I’m not allowed to talk about who that was yet, but I think you’ll be interested in hearing from her. I know I am.”
My fingertips skim the soft material of the sweater she’s wearing and I drop my hand abruptly, curling it into a fist. There is about three inches of space in this room and there’s nowhere I can move that doesn’t have some part of me pressed up against some part of her.
Lucie, in high definition.
My knee taps against hers with every twist to the left. She doesn’t move away and neither do I. I’ve decided a little touching is okay.
“You still haven’t gotten to the good stuff,” she says, and I believe it. I believe with Lucie, there’s only good stuff.
Sharing your feelings might make you more vulnerable with your listeners.” I make a face. “I don’t have those.” “What? Listeners?” “No. Feelings.”
My thumb rests at the hollow beneath her ear. I can feel the faintest flutter of her pulse there,
“And she gets a dimple on her chin when she’s glaring at me.”
How her eyes are the prettiest green I’ve ever seen. How the freckles across her nose are a match for the ones dusted over her shoulder—the ones I keep getting a glimpse of every time the collar of her sweater slips. How her laugh is husky and warm and makes her whole body come alive. That it starts somewhere in her belly and twirls ribbons around her, making her fucking glow. I’m noticing things I shouldn’t be noticing and I’m not as mad about it as I should be.
he’s the only one with his name listed, a little red heart next to it.
His reply comes back right away, even though I know he’s recording for the show. I wonder if he’s in the studio or the tiny break room, grabbing more of those cookies he seems to like so much.
Lucie: Unfortunately the lizard is just the tip of the iceberg, my friend. Aiden: So we are friends. Interesting.
I imagine him with his head ducked toward his phone hidden beneath his desk, his smile glowing in the light from his monitor. Shades of blue and gray.
I can see the glint of a gold chain around his neck, but it’s mostly tucked beneath his shirt.
I would like to pick someone for a date tonight.” “So, you haven’t picked a specific someone. This is just your plan.”
He watches me carefully, his blue eyes heavy. They drift along my face. Eyes. Cheeks. Mouth. His gaze lingers there the longest before snapping away. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
I stare at the back of his neck, the dark hair that’s just starting to curl behind his left ear.
I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want the entire world speculating about whether or not she’s going to kiss someone tonight. I certainly don’t want to speculate about it.
Her cheeks are wet, her nose red. I’m feeling more than a little unhinged. “Who the fuck made you cry?” I snap.
“Was it Elliott?” I ask. “The guy you went out with. Did he do something?” She exhales a rattling sound. “It’s nothing.” “It’s not nothing. Not if you’ve been crying.”
She reaches up and rubs at the studs in her left earlobe and my chest turns over. She only does that when she’s nervous.
I want to wrap her in a blanket and make her some of my secret coffee. I want to punch Elliott in the fucking face.
“You can’t shove me back in the booth,” I say, on the verge of losing my fucking mind. I look over at Lucie again. She’s staring at the floor, arms curled around herself, eyes puffy. It’s breaking my heart. I clench my jaw and look back to Maggie. “Not until I know Lucie is okay.”
I’m going to kill that slimy piece of shit.
The backs of his hands brush against my shins and sparks of sensation scatter up my legs.
“Lucie.” He sighs. He taps his pointer finger against my ankle, then circles it gently. He squeezes. “I don’t like seeing you sad.”
“Really. I’m okay.” His thumb drags up the back of my leg. Down, then up again. More sparks. A glowing warmth that he rubs into my cold skin with his fingertips. “Don’t lie,” he whispers.
He’s always doing that. Asking me. Checking in.
His thumbs brush the sides of my neck.
He glances once at my bare legs in the glittering moonlight and then out at the view. His jaw tightens, then releases. “I didn’t want you to be cold.”
a hand slips under my hair and gently squeezes the back of my neck. His thumb traces the ridges of my spine, and my whole body gets heavier. “Nah, Lucie.” In my dream, he brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I think you’re the magic.”
Aiden Valentine: All right, Baltimore. We have a guest in the booth tonight, his name is— Grayson Harris: Listen up, lizards. There’s a new daddy in town. Aiden Valentine: Oh, boy.
His eyes quickly skim down my body before flicking back up again. His throat bobs with a heavy swallow. “You look nice.”
then back at him, confused. Aiden is…here. Running, apparently. With his hair…wet?
There’s a single droplet of water on the column of his neck. I stare at it for a second too long. “You’re here.” He nods, his forehead scrunching. “Yeah.” “You came to the restaurant?” “I did.”
I stare at the expanse of his throat, the dip between his collarbones, and the gold chain looped around his neck. “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “You like it when I make you work for it,” I fire back. Something liquid hot clenches in my belly.
“How’d you know it was me?” I ask, letting him guide me to the bar on the corner. The one with flower baskets spilling from the windows. Flame-lit lanterns flickering by the entrance. “There are plenty of sad girls in Baltimore.” “Ah, Lucie.” Aiden smiles, his fingers fanning out wide against my back. “I’d know you anywhere.”
