Chapter 5

Chapter Five

After staying up all night obsessing over Leon and Jace, I barely get into the office on time the following day. I had bags under my eyes when I put on my makeup this morning, and I look like a wilted plant.

I curse under my breath when I come in and find a stack of papers already waiting on my desk. I have a lot to do today, and I can’t have my thoughts wandering to what I might have missed last night by turning Leon down.

Of course, on the one day I don’t have the extra braincells, the invoices I need to process aren’t adding up when I compare them to the orders I placed a few weeks ago. I want to ask Mr. Bosley, but he hates when I interrupt him for anything but a call or a visitor.

After two hours of trying to solve the problem, though, I give up and decide I have no choice.

“Mr. Bosley?” I ask, tapping lightly on his door. He looks up from his desk and glares daggers at me.

“What is it, Ms. Dockett?”

I pull my shoulders tight around my neck and clasp my papers to my chest. “The invoices you gave me aren’t matching what we ordered. Are there any missing?”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead and underground.

“There’s nothing missing unless you lost it,” he says, returning to his work pointedly. “Figure it out.”

Great. I’ll need to think of some way to reconcile these on my own. I nod quickly and speed out of his office, back to my desk.

I’m deep in recalculating the numbers when I hear a light knock.

“Hello?”

The door is slightly ajar, and the woman with the slick bun from before is peering inside. She knocks again, and I realize my mind is a blank space.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, getting out of my chair to let her in. But the woman steps inside on her own and flutters a hand at me.

“Stay put. I can open a door. I just didn’t want to surprise you.”

I nod in thanks. “Mr. Bosley’s in his office.”

The woman’s about to stride right past my desk when she stops and tilts her head down to me.

“You look... unwell,” she says, arching an eyebrow.

Is it really that bad? I force a smile onto my face. “I feel fine. I promise, I won’t get you sick or anything.”

“Not like that.” Now the woman is studying me carefully. “Boyfriend problems?”

I blink. “Huh?” How could she possibly know? Not that either of them is my boyfriend, but she’s a little too close to the truth for comfort.

“Well, you have a look on your face like someone’s in the doghouse,” she says, then gestures at my hand. “No wedding ring, though.” She leans against my desk, and I hope Mr. Bosley doesn’t come out and chastise me for chatting up one of his visitors. He hates it when they stop to talk to me. It’s not your job , he always says.

But the woman doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort. “What did this person do to end up on your bad side?” she asks.

I can’t possibly tell a complete stranger what happened last night. The woman has a very stern face, too, that sends a chill up my spine.

“Um...” I wring my hands together. “It’s complicated.”

She sighs and checks her watch. “I have time.”

Maybe I should make something up—but I have the sense this intense person would see through me like I’m a piece of glass.

“I went on a date with this guy,” I finally say, my gaze flicking up to hers and then away again when I see how sharp her eyes are. “And it went really well. But then the next day...” I feel my face flaming already. I don’t want to divulge this information to a complete stranger, but her eyes are burrowing into me like drills. “His brother said he wants to date me, too.”

At this, I finally get a reaction. Both her eyebrows lift ever so slightly, and she uncrosses her stiff arms.

“At the same time?” she asks, still cool and collected.

I nod hurriedly. “I said ‘no,’ of course. It’s too weird.”

“Too weird for whom?” The skeptical look has returned to her face. “For you? Or for society?”

The question takes me by surprise, and I don’t answer for a moment. If I really think about it, what terrifies me most is what my mother would say—how she’d judge me. I couldn’t possibly show up at her house with two boyfriends in tow. She’d eat me alive with just her eyes.

“Society, I guess,” I finally say.

She hmm s. “And you’re going to let a broken, dysfunctional culture like ours tell you what to do?”

“Well, I?—”

“Be another pawn of the system if you want.” She lets her arms drop and turns away. “But it seems stupid to me to deny yourself because others might disapprove.”

Without waiting for my response, the woman strides off into Mr. Bosley’s office, opening the door without even knocking and then shutting it firmly behind her.

I stare at the space where she was standing a moment ago, like an abrupt storm just passed over and left me soaking wet in its wake. Part of me wishes I’d just told her to mind her own business, but another part of me wonders if she’s right. What was it that really upset me about Leon’s suggestion? That people would look at me differently? That they might disapprove?

I worry my lip between my teeth, thinking. Of course I wanted to say yes . Leon’s gorgeous and charming, if a little awkward. He smelled so damn good, and that lopsided grin of his was devilishly handsome. Not to mention those strange blue eyes.

I have to admit that she’s gotten into my head. So what if people disapprove? So what if my mom couldn’t stand the idea? She hates everything about me, anyway.

I pull out my phone and text Jace.

Can you give Leon a message for me?

The answer comes almost immediately.

He’s here, what would you like me to say?

I swallow hard and glance around, as if someone could be spying on me, before typing my answer.

I’d like to take him up on his offer

There’s a long pause before I see the three dots pop up.

He’s excited. He’ll text you

My heart does a somersault. I still can’t believe Jace is fine with this. His next message is even more surprising.

Have a good time. Look forward to seeing you soon!

It makes me feel warm all over, from my throat down to my thighs. Not a few moments later, my phone chimes again, and it’s a number I don’t recognize.

I’m really happy to hear from you

It must be Leon. He quickly sends another one.

Do you want to meet me at Lucky’s tonight?

I don’t hesitate this time before answering.

Sounds good

6:30 work for you?

A little bubble of excitement floats to the top of all my stress and anxiety. I hastily type out my answer.

See you then!

I’m putting my phone away, a pleased smile on my face, when the door to the office flies open. Mr. Bosley storms out, rattling the very floor like a herd of elephants.

“Ms. Dockett,” he says thinly, like he’s doing everything in his power not to grind his teeth. “Please schedule another appointment for...” He glances at the woman in the bun as she emerges from his office. “Mrs. Smith.”

I’m startled by the obviously fake name, but I pull up his schedule, anyway. While Mr. Bosley returns to his office, “Mrs. Smith” and I figure out a good time for her to return, and then she walks out, just as calm and frosty as when she came in.

During my drive home, I’m on autopilot as I think about what I should wear, what color eyeshadow would offset it nicely, how I could do my hair. The other night, I’d already been in my work clothes when Jace saw me, so I didn’t have an opportunity to prep. This time, with Leon, I really want to put my best foot forward—especially after speeding away in my car last night.

I feel a little overdressed when I walk into Lucky’s. Leon’s already waiting at a table in the back, wearing slacks and a collared shirt. I guess we’ll both stand out like sore thumbs. But wow, the button-up looks almost as good on him as his tight work shirt did. His neck is almost too thick for the collar.

Leon gets up when I approach and waits for me to sit down on my side of the booth before he returns to the seat opposite. It’s incredible how his blue eyes stand out against his dark hair and tan skin. There’s almost something supernatural about them.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward at the table. “Jace told us a little bit about you, but I’d like to know more.”

More? I feel like I spilled everything to his brother already. There’s not much else to learn about me.

“Like what?” I ask.

Leon props his chin on his hands. “Tell me about your parents, maybe?”

It’s such a deep-dive question for just starting out that I’m taken aback. I’m not sure how much to say. Should I really confess that I hate seeing my mom because she makes me feel awful about myself every time? I shouldn’t shit-talk my own mother in front of someone I just met.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Leon reaches out and runs a hand over my forearm. It’s such a casual and open touch, but I find I don’t mind it. “Any answer you give is the right answer, as long as it’s honest. I’m not going to judge you.”

I swallow hard, because opening this door means opening the door about how I look, too. How as much as I try to tell myself that I’m worthy and deserving, I’m still shocked that Jace showed interest in me in the first place—not to mention Leon.

With a deep breath, I dive headfirst into it. As I talk about my dinners with Mom every week, Leon listens without interrupting.

“I’m happy in my own skin,” I say. “I just hate how Mom insists I shouldn’t be. That I don’t deserve it.” I tug on the dress I’m wearing mournfully. “My mom would say, ‘this barely fits you!’”

Leon’s eyes travel down from my face to the collar of my dress, then back up again.

“I think it fits perfectly,” he says, his nostrils flaring. Those big blue eyes are focused on me, and suddenly I feel very exposed, even though I picked a neckline that would cover me. “I’m sorry your mom makes you feel that way. I know you don’t need me to tell you how gorgeous you are, but I admire how you don’t let it get to you. It’s important to know yourself and own it.”

Is this really the same guy who howled at me on the street? He’s so sincere, he must have really thought it was a compliment. What an adorable, endearing weirdo.

“I guess so,” I say. “Sometimes she does still get to me. She’s my mother, after all.”

“Have you ever told her how you feel?”

I could simply laugh. “No. I don’t think she’d take it very well.”

“Of course not.” Leon huffs. “Then she’d have to acknowledge that she hurts you regularly. And people never want to admit it when their words and actions hurt.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry to rant. I say that as someone who hurt you pretty recently.”

It seems like he’s really trying to make up for it now, though, so I offer him a smile.

“Water under the bridge,” I say. “But I still don’t understand the whole... smelling thing.” Perhaps that’s not true. Even under the scent of shampoo and deodorant, I can still get a whiff of Leon’s natural scent from across the table—and goddamn, it’s good.

His expression tightens. “It’s a very important sense to us.”

Is he saying it’s a genetic thing? I’m about to ask more questions when he interrupts me.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Leon asks. “There’s an arcade around the corner, and Thursday is nickel night. A lot of good, clean fun for cheap!”

I stare at him. He wants to go out on a date for fourteen-year-olds?

“Come on.” He holds out one arm. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

I suppose I could use some fun after the day I had, so I take his arm and nod. “All right. But I don’t have any nickels.”

“Don’t worry.” He winks. “It’s on me.”