Entangled (A Tryst Novel) (20 page)

“Blake, where are we—”

“Hush,” he says, tugging me forward. This feels like one of his games.

When my boots hit the shadowy but inviting warmth of what feels like a neon underworld, I note the writing on the wall, and the fact that it isn’t in a language I recognize. Instead of words there are symbols, and I lean toward the wall, squinting as I do. It isn’t until I hear the screeching of a microphone, and the beats of
 
Journey’s
 
“
Don’t Stop Believing”
 
that I put the pieces together. I gasp, but it goes unnoticed once the person, wherever he is, begins belting out the tune.

Oh no . . .

I bring my attention to Blake who is conversing with the hostess, and I swear I see him slip her a dollar amount of some sort, but the cute Asian girl with the sharp bob is too busy almost swooning when he leans in close to whisper over the music.

I’m not even bothered by it anymore, and I’m shocked that this is something I’ve simply gotten used to.

When we start walking behind the girl leading us farther inside, I step up to Blake’s side. “It must be exhausting being so damn pretty.” I wish he could see my eye roll in the darkness.

“You tell me,” he quips, which has me fighting my own laughter that wants to twist around his.

Sometimes I hate that he so knowingly uses his looks for good and evil. It’s up for debate which side he’s using his powers for tonight.

I’m about to continue with snark, to check his ego at the door, but when we round the corner my fears are confirmed. I thought maybe my ears might have been deceiving me, but no.

I must have come to a complete stop, because Blake yanks at my arm, causing my boots to jerk on the tiled floor.

“Babe, c’mon,” he says, and I can hear his muffled laughter behind his words.

I laugh too, and let go of his hand, moving my own to cover my burning cheeks as my eyes collide with my worst nightmare. “I thought we were getting dinner?” I squeak.

He turns back, flashing that dimple. “We are. It just happens to be this dinner comes with entertainment.”

I roll my eyes before letting them land on what I now realize is a booth the girl has led us to. I know Blake is standing next to me, watching me, waiting for me to make a move, but I’m too busy taking it all in, and I know he likes observing me like I’m his personal science project, but I don’t care.

My senses are on full alert. The place is buzzing, dark, and loud. The darkness still illuminates the deep purples that cover nearly every surface. It’s busy, packed even. Everyone sitting at their tables are oblivious to the chaos we escaped a bit ago, which helps ease my nerves. They all seem to be having a good time, laughing, cheering, and chatting while someone on the stage in the front of the room continues to belt out the song.

“Just a small town girl, living in a lonely wooorrlldd . . .”

The person’s terrible singing, screeching or not, doesn’t seem to affect the atmosphere either. Just like its patrons, the singer/brave soul is having a good time.

I lift my chin, because my nose is involuntarily following the wafting smell of sweet barbecue. I notice, among the chatter, smoke looming over tables. It twists around the low-hanging fog in the center of the room where fog machines work their magic near the small stage.

My eyebrows bunch up curiously. “Where are we?”

Blake grabs for my hand, bungee-ing me back into his arms. “A place no one would ever think to find us. Call it a last-minute switch up.”

Sure, the corners of my mouth are lifted like a dopey teen whose boyfriend just gifted her his varsity jacket, because how could you not lose your wits when staring into Blake’s eyes, but my heart rate is thumping with nerves it doesn’t normally have to deal with.

“Singing?” I squeak.

He shrugs, pecking a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Korean barbecue and karaoke. What a combo, right?”

I let out a shriek of laugher, shaking my head. “I don’t sing.”

The hand I didn’t know was at the small of my back curves over my ass, his fingers strumming over the short hem of my dress at my thighs. “Neither do I.” He winks.

When we nestle into the booth right in front of the stage I want to argue about Blake’s incognito plan, but I know he’s just as rattled by this evening as I am, even though he won’t admit it. It’s in the unfamiliar crinkle around his eyes that I witness in lulls of the darkness.

I reach out for his hand over the table, making sure to avoid the grill, currently turned off, between us.

He stares at our interlocked fingers a few seconds before bouncing his eyes to mine, smiling. I’m not going to ask if Blake is okay, because I don’t have to. We’ll be fine. I think.

The waitress arrives, laying down tiny bowls of food I don’t recognize as a first course to a meal. She’s rattling words off so fast that I squeeze Blake’s hand before having to let go when she turns knobs at the edge of the table, turning on the grill, igniting a slow, literal sizzle between us as I try to keep up. Before I can figure out the meal I’m assuming she’s leaving to get us, she’s gone in a flash. It’s Blake’s laugh that brings me back.

“I’ll show you how it works. It’s not as complicated as it seems.”

I shrug. I don’t care about the food anyway. I just care about the company.

The person on stage finishes his song with a bow, and considering it could’ve sounded much worse, I applaud him and his bravery.

The restaurant hums with chatter without the sound of someone singing, and it starts to feel cozy. I try not to think about the waiting mic on the speaker fifty feet away.

I turn back to Blake who’s already watching me.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask, really curious as to the answer as I tilt my head to the side, mirroring his examination.

“Lots of things. I’m not sure where to start.”

I chew my lip. Those words ring true for me, too.

He lifts both of his hands and runs them through his hair. I worry that means he’s doubly frustrated, and I have no idea at what.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about that party thing you saw on TV.”

Okay, so that’s where he wants to start. His pupils are wide and uncertain as he gauges my reaction.

I nod slowly. “It’s fine. We worked that out. We don’t need to rehash it.”

He nods as well, but his is a little frantic. “I want to talk about that night, though. There’s something I need to say, and it’s eating at me. I want to be honest, and I don’t want to fuck this up, please know that.”

The sizzling from the barbecue in between us starts to feel like it’s coming from my nerves building under the surface of my skin. “All right . . .”

“I need to get this off my chest. Just know that I’m not saying any of this to upset you, and that it’s only because you always deserve the truth.” He pauses a beat before punctuating the end of his sentence with, “I love you.”

I know that what he’s saying is something I asked of him only days ago. Honesty. Nothing he says should upset me if it’s the truth. I nod, but I can sense my own doubt.

His hands strum over the table nervously, tapping out a fast beat. “I drank too much that night. It was stupid. We wanted to celebrate. Me, Josh, and Kathryn. We’ve been working so hard, and so constantly. At first, I didn’t want to, but I kinda missed letting loose, you know? With Josh making it seem okay, I didn’t see the harm. Kathryn supplied the tequila. She was desperate to clear her head, too. We’re all a bit overwhelmed for different reasons, and with the end of filming in sight, it made sense to let go.”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my upper arms, getting a chill. I don’t like the rehash, and I don’t care for hearing it all over again. Actually, I hate it. “I already know all of this, Blake.”

“I’m not done. There’s something else I need to tell you.” It’s as if he has to force out each word. His handsome face pales in the darkness, and his eyes round apprehensively.

My throat goes dry, and I don’t know what the fates have planned for me, but the waitress appears again, a bottle of warm sake rice wine, and glasses of water on a tray.

I watch the tight tick of Blake’s jaw as he silently watches her.

Taking advantage of the moment, I pull in a deep breath, reminding myself that whatever is happening right now is only a hurdle. All we need to do is get over this. This is us wanting the same thing. Whatever he has to say, I can handle it; we can handle it.

I grab for the water, nearly knocking it over in the process, eager for a distraction.

The waitress pours us sake in our tiny ceramic cups before reaching to place four different types of raw meat around the edges of the grill, and then, just as quickly as before, rattles off more directions for cooking on the grill; then she’s gone.

Apparently needing something with more
oomph
, I absentmindedly grab for the sake after placing the water back onto the table. I keep telling myself I’m making this tension up in my head. However, when Blake matches my movements, grabbing for his sake, seemingly needing it as much as me, each muscle in my back coils tightly.

I try to smile for him, hoping that maybe it will provide the confidence he (and I) seem to need.

We clink glasses and drink. The sake burns awkwardly, warm and strong, down my throat, but the tingling feeling that plummets into my core, and sparks out to my limbs, helps me calm just that little bit. I need to keep this going.

“So, what? You had fun that night. It’s okay. You’re allowed to have fun, Blake. We talked about this. What more could you possibly have to tell me?”

I wish his beautiful jaw would relax. It’s the only thing egging on my nerves.

“I know, but it feels good to hear that. Although, the night didn’t end so well for me.” He pauses to release a sigh, his emerald eyes boring a hole into mine. “Nothing happened, but it feels worth mentioning because you have to know I hate not telling you things, and I’m working on it.”

“Blake, it’s fine, real—”

“I crashed in Kathryn’s hotel room, and she might’ve made a move earlier in the night, but I didn’t remember until that morning.”

He winces once he’s finished, and I think he’s holding his breath. I’ve forgotten how to breathe, too. The fork I’m holding drops from my fingertips to clang with the knife on the table. “W-what?” I blink what feels like twenty times a second as I process what he’s just said. Fear floods me, my lips burn, my heart aches, and my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I have an urge to run.

He reaches out for my hand, and I flinch, but he grabs my hand before I can pull away.

“Skyler, it’s not what you think. Listen to me. She
tried
to kiss me, but all I could do was say your name, over and over again. I rejected Kathryn, only wanting you. Do you hear me? I. Only. Want. You. Even drunk off my ass, it’s only ever been you. Believe me,” he pleads, his eyes stark and fearful, reflecting the feeling coursing through my veins. “The only reason I ended up in her hotel room was because I was too incoherent to walk.”

He shakes his head, clenching his eyes shut before opening them, eyes blazing. “You have every right to be mad, but this is me being honest. This is me not holding back.”

We just stare at each other, and he squeezes my hand almost desperately as he adds, “Say something, Skye.”

My tongue peeks out as my teeth nibble the edge of it as I try to remember how to use it.

“I don’t know what to say.” I’m fuming, but even I can recognize my eerie calm. Surely, he can feel my palm sweating. “Why didn’t you say something when we talked?”

“Babe, I didn’t know what to do. I was missing you so damn much that the last thing I wanted to do was bog down our conversation more than it already was. You were far away from me. But let me repeat, nothing happened. I’m telling you because I want to be able to tell you.”

I nod. I want him to be able to tell me these things too, even when they shouldn’t be happening. I can feel water gathering in the corners of my eyes. I pull my hand free from his to wipe the pools away. I refuse to cry over this. “Nothing happened?” I question again, needing to hear it.

“Nothing. Are you upset?” This time my face turns to stone. He winces again. “Okay, stupid question. Of course you’re upset.” His eyes fall to the table, staring at my hand now out of reach, and I can tell he hates the distance.

How do I process this? I chew my bottom lip, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “You should have told me about this when we were on the phone.”

“Babe, I didn’t know what to do,” he replies pleadingly, and his tone reminds me of that terrible night when I thought he got back together with his ex-girlfriend Marguerite.

Blake and I had barely been official for a day when I had come home that night, stupidly blissful and oblivious. I walked in to see her in my kitchen barely clothed in what only a supermodel might consider pajamas. She took advantage of my ignorance to skew the truth and flat-out lie. It was a situation I could have easily understood if she would have confessed she was coming from an abusive situation, but her intentions were not to seek help, but to win Blake over. All of it could’ve been avoided if Blake told me what was going on, but he was trying to shield me from the stress. Which is what he’s trying to correct now. He’s trying to be honest. That situation with his ex was so much worse, and we got through that. He’s right. This is him trying.

This helps me to focus as he continues, “I didn’t know how to say the words. I was also scared, like I am now. The last thing I ever want is to allow someone to get in the way of us. Know that I confronted her on it. That morning she was just as much a sloppy, hungover mess as me, and she looked like a fucking train wreck. She was embarrassed and apologetic, but I made it clear that what she did was wrong. She knows I’m madly in love with you.”

I don’t know why I take a minuscule bit of joy when hearing that the gorgeous Kathryn Caraway woke up as a train wreck, but I most definitely do.

My lips twitch, hinting at a smile that wants to emerge, and it’s the light at the end of the tunnel. This odd sense of relief slowly starts to simmer below the surface of my skin. I love Blake, and I love him even more for confessing. This is the right reaction.