art . . . I wanted that in my life again. I resisted at first, because I didn’t want my parents to get credit for any of my success.”
“Have they?” I had to admit it, I was dying to get my phone out of my purse and see if I could look his parents up. What kind of people would treat their son that way?
“I don’t think so. Somebody on my team would tell me if they did.”
“I’m sorry.” It felt like such an inadequate thing to keep saying, but I was at a loss here. Things had worked out for him, but it couldn’t have been fun to go through it.
“That’s just how it was. Not everybody’s parents are mentally healthy, and sometimes the best thing for you to do is move on with your own life. My army-appointed psychiatrist told me that and I agreed, and now here we are.”
Now here we were. With him being nominated for the most prestigious acting award in the country. It was strange to think he’d almost walked away from all of it. “Do you regret your time in the army? Because your career might have been different if you’d stayed?”
“No. Joining the army was the best thing I could have done for myself. It taught me to work hard, gave me discipline and structure, and made me understand what was really important in life. It made me the person I am now, and I’m generally happy with who I am. Even if I can be a little impatient and annoyed with others.”
My curiosity was eating away at me, and even though I shouldn’t have asked the next question, I did. “Do you think your parents watched the show tonight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I know they are still representing child actors and have opened their own acting school. For all I know they’re putting my face on their promotional posters. But I can’t spend all my time looking back and reliving the worst parts of my life.”
I startled at that, my heart rate jumping. It was like he’d seen inside my head. Because all I did was look back and relive the most humiliating part of my life.
He put his arm across the seat behind me. “Do you ever find yourself doing that? Reliving hard times?”
“Recently? A whole lot.”
“Is that what caused . . .” He trailed off, his hand hovering next to my neck, and I could feel the warmth from his skin, even though he didn’t touch me. “And is this why you don’t date?”
“My scars? No. I usually only feel a little self-conscious about them when somebody stares and makes comments. Usually I forget because it’s just a part of me now and they’re not that bad.” It was one of the things I liked about Noah, that he didn’t stare or say rude things.
“Can I ask what happened?”
“I was in an accident just after I graduated from high school. I got rear-ended by a drunk driver and glass from the windshield got embedded in my neck. The settlement from his insurance company paid for college, and I saved the rest. Which I’m using to live on now, because somehow I thought I’d start a business and people would just call me. I had no idea how hard it would be to get it off the ground.”
“Sounds like you could have used a four-hundred-and-forty-euro tip.”
“Ha-ha,” I said, nudging him slightly with my hand.
Then he looked at me. The way that Malec had looked at Aliana after their first bout of hand-to-hand combat.
And I knew what that meant.
He wanted to kiss me.
Again I felt like I’d been lured. Only this time it was into a sense of complacency. Him sharing things, trusting me, telling me these stories about himself—it made me forget myself and my own fears. At his expression, they came rushing back.
As my heartbeat pounded out a panicky rhythm, I realized just how close we were on this seat. As if my body had been subtly making its way over toward him, like he was a giant magnet that I was helpless to resist.
So I started inching my way toward the door, wanting to put some space between us. Because he was too much and it felt a little like my throat was starting to close in on itself.
“Why are you afraid of me?” he asked.
I stopped moving. “I’m not.”
“You are. I know I’m a big guy and sometimes that can come across as intimidating, but I’m harmless.”