Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,36

and I share the same complicit smile as we recall memories that only we know. “Who spoke to whom first?” Yara asks again.

“I did,” I tell her. “Petra was always alone with her books and so quiet. After a couple of months in the same class, she had, like, zero friends. She was such a weirdo that I had to introduce myself.”

But Yara doesn’t stop there. “And then?”

And then I fell in love. “And then…” I mumble, looking at Petra. Words remain stuck in my throat as we smile at each other. “And then she was like a mystery that I wanted to solve.” I’m sounding cheesy as fuck, but Petra seems to like it. Choosing my next words more carefully, I add, “And the more I knew about her, the more I liked her.” Blinking twice, my focus remains on Yara, and I aim for a steadier tone. “She used to talk about shit I couldn’t care less about, but she was so passionate about it. And that was”—hot—“dope,” I say instead.

“Like what?” Petra asks with her big blue eyes pinned on me.

“Oh jeez, from artists to philosophical bullshit. You always had something weird to talk about,” I tease her. “She wanted to drag me to every museum and gallery in the city, I swear,” I tell Yara, before taking a sip of my Primitivo.

Petra giggles and says, “Okay, I plead guilty on that one.”

But Yara remains just as serious. “So Emma is your only friend?”

“The only one I trust enough to invite here,” Petra replies, putting a hand on top of mine. Her touch squeezes my heart, reminding me of the deep shit I’m in. “She’s even the one who organized this beautiful gathering.”

And I smile at her answer. It feels good to know I still hold a special place in Ms. Van Gatt’s heart, despite the fact that in three months, she will no longer be Ms. Van Gatt…

Fuck, feeling the urge to smoke, I excuse myself and leave the table.

The only safe place to do so is by the front porch, near the roundabout. There, amid the darkness of the night and few outdoor lights, I stand against the wall and bring a cigarette up to my lips.

But a voice stabilizes me just as fast. “It’s tough, huh?”

“Sorry, what?” I ask, jumping a little, my cigarette locked between my lips.

“Being in love with someone who is not in love with you.” Yara’s imposing figure emerges from nowhere, and I’m surprised to see her holding a metallic lighter. Opening the clasp, she rolls the spark wheel down, igniting the flame, and brings it up to burn the tip of my cigarette. Once the tip is burning brightly, I take a long, steady inhale of smoke. This woman knows her shit. That’s why she was asking so many questions.

“Is it so visible?” I ask, puffing the smoke out of my lungs.

Yara takes a cigarette from my pack and puts it between her lips. It’s a simple move, yet extremely sensual coming from her.

“Not for everyone.” And she brings her lighter up. After burning the tip enough, she quietly pulls the smoke in before exhaling it out. And I notice how classy she looks doing so. “But enough for me.” With her cigarette stuck between her long fingers, she keeps observing me with squinted eyes. “Does Petra know?”

“Not really…” I confess. “Friendship over feelings, ya know.”

“I see…” Yara replies, her eyes meticulously studying me. “And how do you cope with that?” she asks, before bringing the cigarette up to her lips.

“Well, to put it bluntly, I fool around…” I tell her, taking another puff of smoke. “And I pursue many other endeavors…”

“Such as?”

“I’m also an equestrian.” That’s a bit of a stretch, but who cares? “I have a stable at home and ride from time to time.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” she says with a side smile, her mind still ruminating. “Do you play polo?”

“Polo?” I repeat, a bit perplexed by her question.

“Mm…” she utters as she takes another inhale of smoke.

“I’ve never played polo, no. Do you play?”

“A bit…” She lets her words trail off as her dark eyes linger on me.

And her tone is suggestive enough for me to ask, “Would you like to teach me?”

Giving me nothing but a smirk, Yara seems to revel in the calculated silence that fills the space between us. Then she finally says, “I like to teach.” But I’ve got the feeling we are not talking about polo. “Would you like to learn,