2. Savion

TWO

SAVION

Looks like our fundraiser's going to be a huge success.

Our museum is filled with the most beautiful, influential, and wealthy people in Hollywood. And to my surprise, a lot of them seem to be taking an interest in the exhibits. I guess there's a reason they're still making Jurassic Park movies—people love dinosaurs.

My boss told me to "network" tonight. I'm supposed to go from guest to guest, charming them into writing big checks for our future digs and research projects. And I want to do it—I really do—but when I look at all of these beautiful, glamorous people sipping their champagne and talking about their exciting lives, I can't imagine they have any interest in speaking to this scarred-but-friendly neighborhood nerd.

So I'm standing in my favorite place in the museum, beside the Gigantoraptor, just watching the party go on around me. It's actually kind of fun. Despite living in LA for the past three years, I've never really gotten to experience the glamorous side of the city. My time is either spent at the museum or in the library researching. I think I saw Leonardo DiCaprio in Trader Joe's once, and I definitely saw Keanu Reeves on the subway when I was a new transplant in LA, but that's about it.

I'm scanning the room when I notice that someone's eyes are on me… or at least I think they are. A six-foot-plus man with broad shoulders stares in my direction. He could pass for a time-traveling Viking with his full beard and beautifully thick head of hair. I look away immediately, but when I can no longer resist the temptation to let my eyes wander back toward him, I find that he's still looking at me. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel naked, like he's boring into my body and soul.

Or maybe he's just interested in the giant, weird-looking skeleton that's standing right behind me. Yes, that would make more sense. Even before my injury, I could never have dreamed of getting the attention of anyone, least of all a man who looks like that, so I'm really being deluded if I think his searing gaze is directed at me right now. And what the hell am I thinking, anyway? I don't usually care one way or the other whether a guy is attractive or not. But I can look objectively at this one and think he is attractive.

And he's with another almost impossibly tall man, and now it looks like they're heading my way. But it's the first guy who's captured my attention. As they come closer, his features become more discernible. Thick, dark eyebrows. Luminous, wide-set eyes. Straight nose. Lips that are sexy without being pretty—did I just think a guy's lips are sexy?

I can't remember thinking of a guy's lips as being sexy… ever. But my eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they soak in his trimmed sideburns. His beard with specks of gray, rich and thick enough to imagine myself running my fingers through the silky strands. And… unexpectedly, my fingers tingle at the very thought. Thinking about lacing my fingers through a man's hair isn't like me at all. This must be a delayed reaction to what happened to me years ago. Maybe I need to increase the number of sessions I have with my therapist. Once upon a time, I saw her every day. I mentally promise myself to schedule a visit with her soon.

Suddenly, I don't know what to do with my hands—what's a normal way to stand? I settle for holding them behind my back. And when the pair reaches me, I give them a professional smile and hope they can't tell that my face, neck, and ears are feeling impossibly hot. Then again, despite the cool air coming from the AC, I can feel moisture pooling in my armpits.

"Hey, you work here?" the taller man asks.

"I do." I extend my hand. "Hi, I'm Savion." I sound more confident than I feel.

The guy clasps my hand with his and shakes it. "That's cool." He releases my hand. "So I'm Alarik, but just call me Lars." Then he gestures to the handsome, intense-looking guy. "And this is Dec." He tilts his head, his eyes mischievous. "We were wondering what the deal is with this big guy behind you. He looks kind of crazy, even for a dinosaur."

I laugh, both at Lars's comment and with relief. As long as the subject is dinosaurs, I can chat all night long. "This is a Gigantoraptor, the largest known Oviraptorosaur. That means he would have been covered in feathers, and given the size of him, he would have looked kind of crazy. Cool, though. He's definitely my favorite exhibit we have here." I glance at Dec, then back at the dinosaur, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity. "So, are you guys into natural history?"

"Not really," Lars admits. "I'm only interested in dinosaurs if they're chasing Chris Pratt around a theme park. Dec here's the smart one, so I'm going to leave you two and find some more of that free champagne."

Lars wanders off, leaving Dec alone with me. There's a moment of silence while we stare at each other.

Lapis lazuli. I just figured out the color of his eyes. They remind me of the deep blue of the semiprecious stone. I'm getting this weird vibe that if I stare any longer at them, I'll get lost in their depths. Internally, I berate myself for acting so out of character, and drop my gaze to the floor.

Dec coughs lightly; perhaps he's clearing his throat. "So, was this skeleton found in LA?" he asks. And I find myself feeling relieved that he wants to continue the conversation. Don't ask me why, but I'm not ready to say goodbye to this man yet.

"No, it was actually found in Inner Mongolia." Clearing my throat, I continue, "To get the most unusual specimens, we usually have to look internationally. That's part of the reason we're having this fundraiser, so we can send our paleontology staff on digs around the world. There's one going on right now in South Africa, and if we raise enough, I'll get to go. That's the only reason I'm here, to be honest. Normally, I do anything I can to avoid these kinds of events." I chuckle, feeling a bit self-conscious because it's obvious I'm over-sharing. "You know what? I really shouldn't have said that to a guest." Good Lord, shoot me now. I'm babbling like a damn sac-winged bat. Cool it, Sav.

Dec laughs, the sound sending a strange, unfamiliar warmth through me. A light-heartedness I don't usually feel around strangers. It's been a really long time since I've interacted with anyone outside my co-workers and my best friend Kelly. Once upon a time there was also Haley, but she doesn't count anymore. That's probably why Dec seems to have this effect on me.

"It's alright; I won't tell your boss. This isn't my kind of thing either—too much small talk."

"Isn't it the worst? If I have to tell one more person that Jurassic Park isn't really possible…"

"Yeah, I had to explain that one to Lars on the way here. Don't worry, he's disappointed but he's still going to donate." Dec's slow smile builds, and it captures my attention. His teeth are perfect, except for a small chip in the front. Perhaps from a childhood fall? Whatever it was, I'm glad he has that minor imperfection. Makes him imperfectly perfect.

"So, have you worked here long?" I'm so focused on the way he looks, his easy confidence, that I almost miss the question.

I hesitate. It sounds suspiciously like small talk. Or at least it would, if anybody else were asking. But the way he's looking at me—as though there's nobody else in the room—suggests he genuinely wants to know about me, though I have no idea why.

"I've been here for about three years. I was in New York before that, at the American Museum of Natural History."

"I've been to that museum." His devilish eyes twinkle. "It's cool. So, why did you leave? I thought that it was one of the biggest natural history museums in the world."

"It is, and working there was great, but—" I hesitate. It's always difficult to come up with an excuse for leaving New York without bringing up the fact that I was too traumatized after what happened to me to continue living in the same city.

As if he can see how conflicted I am, Dec quickly says, "It's okay, that was a personal question. You don't have to answer." He considerately changes the subject. "Is there any chance you'd give me a quick guided tour of this place? I've wandered around here a few times on my own, but getting to see it through an expert's eyes would be great."

"Plus, it would mean neither of us have to join the party," I say, and he winks at me with a grin.

"Exactly."

The gesture brings an unexpected sense of ease and comfort, like I'm reconnecting with an old friend. I haven't felt a stirring of excitement like this for a long time. I really need to take Kelly's advice and get out more, meet new people.

We start to stroll out of the large hall into one of the smaller exhibits, but just before we manage to escape, an older man in a designer suit approaches us and grabs Dec by the arm.

"Hey, Declan. I'm glad to catch you here. How you doing, man?"

Dec looks down at his arm and shakes it free of the man's clutches. "I'm alright, Hank. Look, I'm just?—"

The man doesn't let Dec finish his sentence. "Hey, you don't have a drink. Honestly, you can't get good staff these days. You." He points at me, the first time he's acknowledged my presence since the conversation started. "You work here, right?" And before I can respond, he says, "Get this man a drink."

"Hank," Dec says forcefully. "Savion's a paleontologist, not a server. And he's giving me a tour right now, so you're just going to have to wait."

The man's eyes flick between Dec and me, a frown pulling at his brows, as if he can't comprehend why Declan would waste his time with someone like me. His stare lingers on me, evaluating, dismissing—exactly the kind of look I've grown used to over the years. Ordinarily, that look would have made my chest tighten, my feet shuffle, maybe even force me to swallow down the familiar bitter taste of inadequacy.

But something is different this time. Hearing Dec stand up for me—call me by name, no less—does something unexpected. Instead of curling inward, a faint warmth blooms in my chest, a strange sense of satisfaction. He didn't hesitate to shut Hank down. A flash of irritation crosses the older man's face before his indifference returns, but I catch it, and that only deepens the swell of pride in my gut.

Maybe, despite the scars, despite the whispers, I'm not the invisible figure I've come to expect I'll be.

"I mean, that's your choice," Hank says, his voice casual but tinged with something dismissive, as if he's too self-important to care. He shrugs, turning his attention back to the crowd like I've already faded into the background.

Declan lets out a low grunt of annoyance, the tension in his body easing once we're clear of him.

"I'm sorry about that," Dec mutters, his tone apologetic yet firm, and it makes me glance up at him. He sounds like he genuinely cares about how Hank's attitude affected me. It's disarming.

We step into the next exhibit, the lights dimmer, the air cooler. I can already feel the tension ebbing from my shoulders. I'm about to respond, but Dec beats me to it, shifting us back to something lighthearted.

"What's this exhibition about?" His question, while seemingly innocent, feels like a deliberate attempt to put me at ease, like he knows I need the distraction.

I allow myself a breath, and then a smile forms on my lips as my hand brushes over the glass of the display. My body relaxes as I focus on something I actually know well. "Oh, I love this room." I move closer, letting my fingers graze the surface, the cold glass grounding me. "It's not really my area of expertise, but this is our gem and mineral room."

There's something comforting about sharing this, something that reminds me why I fell in love with the past in the first place. These ancient rocks have stood the test of time, quietly existing through the rise and fall of civilizations. I like that—something stable, something unbreakable. Maybe it's silly, but in a world that feels like it's constantly shifting, I crave that kind of endurance.

And Dec… well, he seems to be listening. Really listening. Not like Hank, not like anyone who usually looks right through me.

I show Dec around, and together we marvel at the beautiful, ancient gems.

"I can't believe this rock is over four billion years old," I say, pointing at a meteorite.

Dec comes over and stands close behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I'm not sure why because that reflex wouldn't happen unless it was a warm day and a waft of cool breeze caressed my skin, or I was afraid, or I was… I was aroused. But a quick run through a mental checklist indicates that none of those things have occurred. I mentally shake my head, dismissing my wayward thoughts, thoughts that make absolutely no sense.

"Wow. And I thought I was old at forty-two," he deadpans, bringing me back to the present and making me laugh.

"I mean, forty-two is kind of old," I joke, and then gasp at my own words. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

Dec laughs and shakes his head. "Don't worry, I've heard much worse. Say, I don't suppose you?—"

He's interrupted by his phone pinging in his pocket. He digs his hand into his tight, dark-colored jeans, and rolls his eyes at the screen. "It's Lars. He's trapped by Hank. I'm going to have to go and rescue him. We'll pick this up again later, yeah?"

"Sure… I should probably get back out there anyway or my boss will start wondering where I am." We stroll back out to the party and as soon as we're back amongst the bright lights, noise, and crowds, I miss being alone with Dec.

Pull yourself together , Sav . He's just a guy who happens to be interested in the same things as you; that doesn't mean he's interested in being your friend.

"Right, I'll leave you here. But I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" Dec says, and as he speaks, he just briefly allows his eyes to roam over my face. He looks at me—all of me—and I wish, for perhaps the millionth time since the day I removed the bandages, that the scars covering half of my face were just a figment of my imagination.

A scene from a nightmare I could wake up from.

No matter how much foundation I wear, my scars are never hidden. I can tell that Dec sees them. So I hold in my breath, waiting for the revulsion, or even pity like I've seen on countless faces before. And then… and then I release my breath on a sigh because unlike so many people, my scars don't seem to make Dec flinch, or look away awkwardly.

Why couldn't my ex-fiancée have looked at me like this?

"Yes, we'll catch up later." Smiling, I head back to my place beside my old friend, the Gigantoraptor. I watch as Dec crosses the hall and effortlessly plucks Lars away from Hank, who's seemingly been hounding him about something or other. For a moment, I start to wonder what Dec does for a living. He's attractive enough to be an actor, but I can't remember seeing him in anything. Then again, I hardly have my finger on the pulse of popular culture. The last movie I saw in the cinema was Frozen , and that was only because my best friend Kelly begged me to go with her and her niece, who was visiting from Arkansas.

I allow myself to imagine for a moment that Dec really is interested in being my friend. I wonder where we'd hang out? A hiking trail, perhaps—if he's into that kind of thing. And then the strangest thing happens: I begin to wonder what it would be like if instead of hanging out as friends, Dec and I were actually going on a double date, both him and me going on a date with the woman of our dreams.

And yeah, there was a time I thought I'd already met, fallen in love with and gotten engaged to the woman of my dreams, but it was just an illusion. The doctors had barely removed the bandages on my face when she was gone, never to be heard of again. I mentally pulled myself from going down that road. Haley needed to stay in the annals of history where she belonged.

My mind returns to my earlier thoughts. I've always thought a hike into the Hollywood Hills would make a great first date. Of course, I'm not exactly the poster boy for rugged good looks and effortless charm, with women vying for my attention at every turn… and I'm not ready to be out there either. To be totally honest, my heart and body are still healing from my wounds.

Suddenly, my little fantasy date is interrupted by a man pointing at me with a grin on his face. He nudges his friend, whispers something, and laughs. They're clearly drunk, judging from how unsteady they are on their feet, but that doesn't make it any less painful to see. I should be used to this by now, but I don't think you ever really get used to being considered a spectacle.

The two men are young, attractive, and based on their designer clothes and shoes, obviously very wealthy. I doubt they've ever had a real problem in their lives, so I tell myself they just don't understand. But as soon as my brain formulates the thought, I mentally berate myself. I'm being just as judgmental as I'm silently accusing them of being. Of course, everyone has problems.

But chastising myself doesn't change this fact: that old feeling of embarrassment and self-disgust rises to the surface for the first time in a while. I have no choice but to leave the hall and hide out in the staff room for the rest of the night.