Page 41 of My Lucky Star
“You know what I mean. We have a business arrangement.”
“Definitely no pleasure?” His head tilted a little as he examined my face, an unsure smile playing on his lips.
It was such a burning gaze I could barely meet his eyes. I couldn’t hide it. I couldn’t stop my pupils from dilating or my throat drying up. But I had to rise above it.
I overfilled my lungs, gathering my willpower. “Can we be friends, Cem?”
He paused for a moment like I’d slapped him, then gave me a grave nod, his lips sealed and his gaze avoiding mine, until it finally returned with a new resolve. “Friends, huh?”
Was he hurt?
“Friends,” I confirmed, offering him a weak smile.
“With ben—”
“No. No benefits.”
After a moment, he smiled back. “Well, don’t blame me if you accidentally fall in love with me. I can be a pretty amazing friend.”
I rolled my eyes, but my neck blazed as I followed him back to the restaurant. This guy was impossible to turn down. Why did I even try?
Chapter 15
Cem
IFELT LIKE I’D BROKENout of prison, skulking along the main street of Napier. After a late breakfast, I’d faked a headache and retreated to bed as Emir left for a walk around town to do whatever he considered fun. Probably visit all of Napier’s museums. As soon as the door closed behind him, I’d jumped into my shoes and snuck out the back.
Like the world’s most awkward detective, I followed him. Seeing him turn left, I went right. My plan wasn’t brilliant, but it was good enough for what I needed – a moment of freedom. One moment to pretend I was my own man, travelling solo, minding my own business.
Not that I had anything to prove, at least to Aria. She may have had a point, but she didn’t understand my reality.
She’d infiltrated my head, though, her words haunting me as I’d woken at 4 a.m., disoriented and so hungry I’d wandered downstairs to make myself a sandwich. Jet lag seemed to hit me at random times like whiplash.
Napier felt safe. Dressed in the slacks and T-shirt Aria had given me, I blended in. Based on the facial expressions of the few locals I’d passed, no one recognized me. My sense of freedom grew at every step, and I straightened my spine, then eventually slowed my pace to peer through the shop windows. The town center offered an eclectic but limited selection of stores. All the Art Deco style and references made the place feel like a cute little time capsule.
I spent a half hour buying souvenirs; Manuka honey and organic lavender oil for my mom. She appreciated anything that claimed to be good for you and looked expensive. Unlike my father, who appreciated cigars. Or, used to. But he didn’t need souvenirs.
