Page 67 of My Lucky Star
Cem held my gaze, his eyes filled with light. “It’ll be easier with you. You’re not a smoker, right?”
“No. Never smoked. Hate the smell.” I shuddered.
“Perfect! I’ll stay by your side, and you can hold my hand every time I really want a cigarette. I’ll replace one craving with another.”
A craving? Oh, no.
He took my hand, sending a powerful jolt straight to my heart, and other unmentionable places. Dang it. This was even worse.
I took a steadying breath. “Why did you stop smoking?”
Cem held still, staring at our intertwined fingers. “Our dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. We don’t know how bad it is yet, but that sort of influenced my decision.”
My heart lurched. “I’m so sorry. That must have been a shock.”
“Not really. He’s a heavy smoker.”
“Were you?”
“Not that bad, but still... It’s risky, and he didn’t ask me to quit.” Even through the mask, I heard the pain in his voice.
“So, you quit because hedidn’task you to?”
He tilted his head. “Yeah, I know it sounds messed up and it’s not the only reason, but it feels great to take some control, make my own choices.”
So much for my quiet hope that he’d made the decision on a whim and would slip into his old habits as soon as we landed in Istanbul. But even if he did... I couldn’t help the twinge of despair for him. Deep down, I couldn’t wish for anything bad for him, not even if it saved me from getting hurt.
After a while, the dinner trays arrived. Cem ordered two glasses of champagne and placed them both next to my chicken pasta, removing his mask. The joy of seeing his smile hit me so hard I nearly leaned in to touch his face.
I raised one of the champagne glasses. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Cem shrugged. “Maybe a little more relaxed.”
I sighed and downed the drink. Relaxing wasn’t a bad idea. I’d already made my choice, stepping on this plane. I might as well try to enjoy it. Did it matter how short-lived my fake relationship with Cem ended up being? I was making memories I’d hopefully keep forever. I hadn’t been kidding about that memory palace. Deep inside my mind, my moments with Cem were categorized, cross-referenced with where on my body I’d felt each touch, each word. Concerningly, those sensations were presenting increasingly in my heart.
The champagne fizzed its way to my head, making it light. I couldn’t help staring at him. I’d never get enough of the way those eyes sparkled and his mouth curved. This was my chance to live a fairy tale –taste the life I’d once dreamt of. Maybe it would bring closure. Like meeting a person you’d once pined for.
I dug out my phone and pointed the camera at Cem. He smiled for the photo, then grabbed the phone from me and pulled me in for a selfie. When he handed the phone back, his smile vanished. “You know you can’t post anything, right? Emir would flip out.”
“That’s fine.” I filled my lungs to dispel the heat enveloping my neck. “I only want something to remember you by.”
Cem snatched my phone back. “I won’t give you that.” Frowning, he deleted the photos I’d taken.
“Why?”
“People collect memories when they’re leaving. When someone’s dying. I’m not helping you with that.”
I sighed. “We’re friends, right? Our lives are worlds apart, but we can be friends on different continents and it’s nice to have photos to remember friends.” My voice came out in desperate bursts.
I tried to take my phone back, but he kept flipping through my photos, holding it out of my reach. Pictures of the hotel whipped past, and I knew what was coming. Why hadn’t I deleted that one—
“What’s this?” Cem stared at the photo of him sleeping. “Did you sneak into the hotel when I was sleeping?"
“What, no! That was the night we met.” My cheeks blazed. Taking that photo had brought me so much grief. How stupid did I have to be?
“You took a photo after I fell asleep?” He looked at me with unbearable hope and delight, his voice soft.
“I thought I might never see you again,” I whispered. “You looked so beautiful.”
