“It was harsh.”
His eyes finally fall on me. “Harsh or honest?”
The question gives me pause.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe some people need the kind of honesty that sucker-punches you in the gut and steals your breath. The kind that enrages you. Offends you, even.
Until you put aside your ego and truly listen.
I nibble my lip, arms folding across my chest, our gazes locked for another beat before he pulls away and chooses a coffee flavor. “I was thinking about what you said the other day. About smiling.”
Parker wavers, then pops open the top of the Keurig. “Yeah? I bet you were thinking about how right I was.”
I’m almost certain there was a trace of levity in his tone. Something sort of … playful. But the thought alone seems preposterous, so I convince myself it was only wishful thinking. “The opposite, actually. I was coming up with a thousand different reasons to counter your theory.”
“A thousand,” he breezes. “I’ll wait.”
“But I only need one.”
Parker gives me his half-hearted attention, only a side-eye, but I know he’s all ears. He leans forward on his palms, waiting for the coffee to dispense.
Waiting for my reason.
“You noticed it,” I finally say.
Parker’s shoulders tense, his head bowing briefly as his jaw clenches, then he lifts his gaze back to mine. I have his full attention now. “What does that mean?”
“You noticed my smile,” I explain. “And you don’t notice much of anything. You said I smiled too much—you twisted it into something negative, but you only did that because you didn’t like that you noticed it. It made you uncomfortable. You hated the way it pierced through your heavy armor and warmed you up inside.” My words and thoughts spill out completely unrestrained, and I only stop to take a quick breath. “It means I’ll give away all the smiles. I’ll smile at strangers on the street, at people I don’t even like. I’ll smile all damn day, even if only one person notices, because maybe it’s all they need to feel better that day. Maybe it’s what they secretly crave. Maybe it will give them a reason to smile… and I think that’s pretty powerful.”
My cheeks heat as my unfiltered truth bomb detonates between us, and Parker only stares at me, he just stares in that way that he does, where I feel utterly naked and exposed, my skeletons on full display.
But then his lips twitch, and he says, “I think that was more than one reason.”
I’m not expecting that response, or for that almost-playful tone to reappear, so I stand there frozen for one long moment before I manage a head shake. “It wasn’t.”
“It was a lot of words.”
Well, crap. Now I’m pretty positive he’s teasing.
And I have no clue how to handle it.
I don’t know what to say. I’m all out of words.
So… I smile.
Because that’s what I do best.
Parker’s eyes dip to my mouth, and his gaze lingers there for a beat longer than expected. When he finds my eyes again, all remnants of humor disintegrate. “Stop doing that.”
I smile bigger. “Nope.”
“It’s obnoxious.”
“It’s contagious.”
“Hardly.” I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow, causing him to reel back with a frown. “Ow.”
“Smile.”
“What? No.”
“You know you want to.”
“Actually… no.”
My smile blooms even brighter. “Please?”
“No.”
When I go to bop him with my elbow again, I’m startled when Parker reaches out and grabs me by the shoulders. His hands slide lower, fingers curling around my upper arms—not too hard, but enough to cause my lungs to expel a stunned breath, my lips parting with a tiny gasp.
Parker’s eyes go straight to those lips as he whispers, “Stop.”
He feels so close, closer than he actually is, and I’m suffocating on his scent. Clean and crisp. My skin warms beneath his fingers, the heat traveling up my chest, my neck, and settling in the apples of my cheeks.
And then I feel it.
Something familiar yet obsolete.
A tingle.
Coiling deep down, sparking to life, and rising from the dead.
There’s a séance going on inside of me.
And I think it should be a good thing, this feeling.
But I’m a little bit horrified, mostly confused, and I’m wondering why the hell he’s still so focused on my mouth when my smile is long gone.
Parker blinks, his eyes skimming back up my face, eyebrows furrowing into his usual scowl, the lines in his face hardening. He releases me like I just burned him.
But I’m honestly not sure who burned who.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he steps away, far away, a vein in his neck bulging. “You’re like the goddamn sun,” he spits out.
The analogy all but stops my heart.
“You’re the sun, Melody March.”
My blood freezes, a winter draft whispering along my skin and burrowing into my bones.
It’s strange. It’s strange how something so precious, so romantic coming from Charlie, can sound so hostile on Parker’s tongue.
It’s an insult.
Gathering my wits, I inhale a rickety breath and wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to subdue the chill. “Bright? Happy?” I offer, knowing full well that’s not what he means.
Parker squints his eyes, taking one more step back. “Intrusive.”
He levels me with a final glare, then spins around and walks out of the meeting, abandoning his coffee. Abandoning whatever the hell just happened.
I let out the breath I was holding onto and turn to face the center of the room, where the meeting is about to resume.
But my feet halt before they can move because I notice… all eyes are on me.
Watching. Observing.
With flushed cheeks and my eyes to the floor, I slink back over to my chair and sit down. I send a quick glance over to Parker’s empty seat, and I wonder.
I can’t help but wonder…
What did they see?
—ELEVEN—
Later that night, I’m lying on my parent’s rose-patterned sofa, my belly full and my thoughts scattered.
I love this couch. It’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen, but I love it anyway. It reminds me of tickle fights and drippy popsicles and sick days from school, where I’d spend the whole day lounging and watching Nickelodeon.
“I’m so glad you came by,” Mom says, hovering at the edge of the living room as I smile over to her. She dries her hands on a dish towel, returning the sentiment. “We haven’t seen you in weeks.”
My heart aches. “I’m sorry.”
My mother, Claire Dahlberg, is petite and pretty, the laugh lines and wrinkles around her mouth a testament to her perky disposition and a clear indicator that I’m her daughter. I look just like her with our matching smiles, green eyes, and light, light hair, our skin pearly and sallow. West looks more like our father, Lucas, his Swedish descent evident in his crystal blue eyes and tall stature. Dad had to work late tonight and won’t be home until close to midnight, so I make a mental note to swing by for another dinner date this week.