Page 78
Story: King of Envy
Eat.Vuk sat across from me after his staff left.It’ll make you feel better.
As if on cue, my stomach growled. I really was starving. “How did you know?”
You were at a photoshoot all day. I doubt they were feeding you properly.
Warmth trickled into my stomach. “And the peanut butter?” It was one of my guilty pleasures.
Youmentioned it in your sleep when we were in California. I figured you’d like it.
“I was talking about peanut butter in my sleep?” I asked, mortified. “That’s so—just kill me now.”
A smirk softened Vuk’s mouth. He didn’t say anything else as I tore into a croissant and dipped the apple wedges in peanut butter. Screw the calories. I was going to eat whatever I wanted today and worry about it later.
I was grateful Vuk didn’t ask more questions about Wentworth. I’d gotten the incident off my chest, and it was nice to eat in silence without rehashing my trauma.
This was exactly what I needed at the moment.
I took a sip of tea. My eyes winged up at the taste. “This is almost exactly like the tea I gave you at my house.”
Vuk shrugged.I liked it, so I had someone recreate it as closely as possible.
“How? It’s my mom’s custom blend. She won’t even tellmeeverything she puts in it.”
I have my ways.
Of course he did.
“Must be nice,” I mumbled. I had to go back to D.C. if I wanted a refill.
Its comforting familiarity sent a wave of nostalgia crashing through me. If only I were home. I missed the simplicity of my younger days, when there was nothing my mother couldn’t soothe with a hug and a hot drink.
Vuk smirked again, but the coldness never quite left his eyes. Wentworth was still at the top of his mind.
Meanwhile, there was another elephant sitting in the room with us. I debated whether to bring it up, but we had to talk about it sooner or later. I might as well rip all the Band-Aids off at once.
“About last Saturday,” I said tentatively. “I didn’t?—”
Nothing happened last Saturday.
I startled at his terse reply. He hadn’t hesitated for a single beat.
Was I delusional? Had I imagined what happened on the street?
No.I hadn’t beenthatdrunk. I’d definitely tried to kiss him, and he’d definitely stopped me. I didn’t know what he’d said in Serbian, but I heard what came before that, loud and clear.
Don’t.
Vuk was giving me a graceful way out by pretending nothing happened. That was, by all accounts, the best-case scenario for both of us.
So why did I feel so disappointed?
He switched subjects.Did you tell anyone else what happened with Wentworth?
“Not yet.” Warmth rushed to my cheeks. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
The naked vulnerability of my admission fluttered between us like torn diary pages in the wind.
Vuk’s eyes softened the tiniest bit.
As if on cue, my stomach growled. I really was starving. “How did you know?”
You were at a photoshoot all day. I doubt they were feeding you properly.
Warmth trickled into my stomach. “And the peanut butter?” It was one of my guilty pleasures.
Youmentioned it in your sleep when we were in California. I figured you’d like it.
“I was talking about peanut butter in my sleep?” I asked, mortified. “That’s so—just kill me now.”
A smirk softened Vuk’s mouth. He didn’t say anything else as I tore into a croissant and dipped the apple wedges in peanut butter. Screw the calories. I was going to eat whatever I wanted today and worry about it later.
I was grateful Vuk didn’t ask more questions about Wentworth. I’d gotten the incident off my chest, and it was nice to eat in silence without rehashing my trauma.
This was exactly what I needed at the moment.
I took a sip of tea. My eyes winged up at the taste. “This is almost exactly like the tea I gave you at my house.”
Vuk shrugged.I liked it, so I had someone recreate it as closely as possible.
“How? It’s my mom’s custom blend. She won’t even tellmeeverything she puts in it.”
I have my ways.
Of course he did.
“Must be nice,” I mumbled. I had to go back to D.C. if I wanted a refill.
Its comforting familiarity sent a wave of nostalgia crashing through me. If only I were home. I missed the simplicity of my younger days, when there was nothing my mother couldn’t soothe with a hug and a hot drink.
Vuk smirked again, but the coldness never quite left his eyes. Wentworth was still at the top of his mind.
Meanwhile, there was another elephant sitting in the room with us. I debated whether to bring it up, but we had to talk about it sooner or later. I might as well rip all the Band-Aids off at once.
“About last Saturday,” I said tentatively. “I didn’t?—”
Nothing happened last Saturday.
I startled at his terse reply. He hadn’t hesitated for a single beat.
Was I delusional? Had I imagined what happened on the street?
No.I hadn’t beenthatdrunk. I’d definitely tried to kiss him, and he’d definitely stopped me. I didn’t know what he’d said in Serbian, but I heard what came before that, loud and clear.
Don’t.
Vuk was giving me a graceful way out by pretending nothing happened. That was, by all accounts, the best-case scenario for both of us.
So why did I feel so disappointed?
He switched subjects.Did you tell anyone else what happened with Wentworth?
“Not yet.” Warmth rushed to my cheeks. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
The naked vulnerability of my admission fluttered between us like torn diary pages in the wind.
Vuk’s eyes softened the tiniest bit.
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