Page 30 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)

Chapter twenty-four

Molly

H alloween in New Orleans is a pretty big deal; any excuse to dress in costume and celebrate is a worthy one here. Every year on the Saturday before Halloween, the Krewe of Boo! hosts the official parade with marching bands, dance crews, and the over-the-top floats New Orleans is known for.

The parade is why my sister Olivia and her friend Annie are in town this weekend, and why I’m trying to entertain them as they sit in my living room.

Or I’m holding them captive, more like. Insert evil laugh here.

Okay, not really, but I am letting them stay in my tiny apartment, so they kind of owe me.

“Actually,” I tell them, “the history of parades in New Orleans is fascinating.” Olivia groans, but I ignore her and continue.

“In the 1800s, the city didn’t have a lot of governmental resources, so communities formed mutual aid associations to bridge the gap.

These were usually formed around cultural groups as immigrants with shared language and tradition gathered together. ”

Olivia’s eyes have started to glaze over while Annie politely smiles and nods her head.

“When a member of one of the societies died, their group honored them with a grand celebration of life, which evolved into parades with bands and mourners marching down the street,” I finish.

“That’s really interesting, Mol,” says Olivia dryly, “but we came here to watch a parade, not learn about them.”

“Fine.” I chuckle. “What made you guys decide to come this year?”

Annie has been Olivia’s best friend since middle school.

By then, I was already away at college, so even though I know Annie, I haven’t spent very much time with her.

She seems soft-spoken and calm, in stark contrast to my baby sister who thrives on being the center of attention and the life of every party.

Olivia looks away, and Annie clears her throat.

“Uh, my brother invited me and then his, um….” Annie glances quickly at Olivia, who is focusing intently on the messy stacks of books and papers on my coffee table, her jaw tight.

“His girlfriend decided to tag along, so I asked Delaney to come so I wouldn’t feel like a third wheel. ”

Everyone outside of our family calls Olivia by our last name, Delaney, which is a nickname she switched to sometime around high school, I think. I’m not sure why.

I decide to ignore the weird vibes happening right now and instead ask, “Oh yeah, you have a twin brother, right?”

Again, Annie glances at Olivia, who is still acting like she’s not part of this conversation. “Yes. Gage.”

I smile. “I remember seeing the three of you running around together whenever I’d come home for a visit.”

Annie’s expression turns wistful. “Yeah.”

Olivia tosses her hair, her blonde ponytail swishing on top of her head. “That was a long time ago,” she says in a stony voice, her face impassive.

I narrow my eyes and swivel my attention between the two friends. “This is weird, right? There’s a subtext here I’m not understanding?”

Annie’s eyes widen, and she shrugs. Olivia pinches her lips together. Neither of them answers, so I let it go, for now.

After all, I’m not exactly showing my whole hand, either.

I’m not ready to share Jonathan and my fledgling relationship with my family yet.

Last night, snuggled on the couch together after watching You’ve Got Mail , I told Jonathan he needed to make himself scarce this weekend while my sister is visiting.

I also reclaimed my spare key from his key ring—at least for the next few days—so Olivia can use it.

He flashed that ever-present smirk of his. “What, are you ashamed of me?”

“No, it’s just that as far as my sisters know, I hate you. I’m not ready to explain everything yet. They will definitely have … opinions.” I scrunched my nose, thinking about the merciless teasing Nicole and Olivia would dish out.

Jonathan tilted his head, the corners of his mouth turning up. “You never actually hated me, though, did you?” As he asked, he twirled a strand of my hair around his finger in a way that made my whole scalp tingle.

It was my turn to smirk. “I thought I did.” He continued twirling, and I felt a shiver travel up through my shoulders and escape out the top of my head. I closed my eyes at the sensation. “But I don’t hate this.”

As the girls and I finish dinner, Annie asks, “Are you sure you won’t come to the parade with us?”

We’re at a restaurant in the French Quarter about a twenty-minute walk from my apartment, close to where the parade will pass through.

The end of the parade route is actually only a couple of blocks from my apartment, but Olivia and Annie are supposed to meet up with Gage and his girlfriend at Jackson Square.

I shudder involuntarily thinking about the chaos and crowds surrounding the parade. “No. I’m good.”

Olivia's eyes soften as she nods. She gets it.

New Orleans is a party city, but I am not a party girl.

The noise by itself is formidable, loud drums and brass instruments from the marching bands, people cheering and shouting in the streets, but the real struggle for me is the press of the crowd around me.

In a New Orleans parade situation, there is no such thing as personal space.

The one and only time I tried to watch a parade with a group of friends back in graduate school, I enjoyed it at first. The buzz of excitement in the air and the novelty of the experience had my full attention.

Then as the floats came through, the riders throwing plastic cups, beads, and MoonPies from above our heads, the crowd surged together closer to the street, and I felt suffocated.

From all sides, people pressed into me—the smell of body odor, alcohol, and vomit overwhelming.

One friend saw my distress and helped me get to a stoop in the doorway of a closed real estate office.

I spent the rest of the parade sitting on the cold concrete with my knees pulled up to my chest and my head resting on my folded arms. Even then, all my senses remained heightened, and the stoop smelled strongly of urine.

Obviously, I’m not eager to repeat that experience, so I am 100 percent fine with heading home to my quiet apartment while Olivia and Annie enjoy themselves.

“Will you be okay walking home by yourself?” Olivia asks outside the restaurant as we prepare to go our separate ways.

I wave my hand as if swiping away her concern. “Oh yeah. It’s not far.”

Olivia slips on the Mardi Gras-style, feathered peacock mask she brought to complement her, in my opinion, way too revealing costume, but that’s probably my overprotective older sister instincts talking.

Olivia is an adult, after all. She wears tight green-and-blue-patterned bicycle shorts under a long open-front mesh skirt designed to look like peacock feathers.

Her top is cropped just below her chest, leaving her stomach exposed down to her belly button.

Though the top covers up to her neck, a keyhole cutout on her chest shows some cleavage, and it’s open in the back.

The top has the same peacock feather design as the skirt.

She looks hot. I guarantee more than one set of eyes will be on her tonight, but that’s probably the point. Olivia loves the attention.

Annie is in costume, too, though hers is much less “look at me.” The friends clearly coordinated, because Annie is a bird, too—a swan. The skirt of her white dress flounces out with layers of tulle down to her knees. Her mask is also in a masquerade-style with sequins and white feathers.

The sidewalks are already filling up with other people in costume, and as I look around, I begrudgingly admit to myself that Olivia’s outfit is relatively conservative in this crowd.

I wave a quick goodbye and walk in the direction of my apartment. The sun is starting to set and though it’s not dark yet, shadows overtake the sidewalk in front of me.

Despite my reassurances to my sister just moments ago, I feel uneasy as the dusk creeps in.

Even more so when my skin prickles with the awareness that someone is watching me.

I pick up my pace, wrapping a fist around the keys in my pocket so that one of them sticks up through my fingers like a claw.

I walk even more quickly when I hear footsteps behind me. I’m not alone; groups of people ramble past, but I’m definitely swimming upstream as I head away from the parade route. I turn my head subtly to glance behind me and make out a hulking man, encased in shadows and reaching toward me.

I scream just as a familiar voice says my name and a hand clamps down on my shoulder.

My hand flies to my chest as if I’m trying to keep my heart from exploding out of my body. It takes a minute for the adrenaline to dissipate enough for me to recognize my “assailant.”

“Jonathan! What the heck! You scared the crap out of me!” I smack his chest, hard.

“Oof!” he grunts as my hand hits his sternum. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing here? And why are you following me like some sort of stalker?” I narrow my eyes and take in his dark wash jeans and the black T-shirt that’s tight around his biceps. Okay, a very sexy stalker, but still.

He rubs his chest where I hit him. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be a stalker. I knew you were walking by yourself, and I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

I raise my eyebrows. “And how did you know I was walking home by myself?”

Jonathan chuckles. “You told me. Remember?”

I think back. Oh, yeah. I did tell him, including which restaurant we’d be at. Still, I make a show of sighing deeply before I say, “Fine.”

Jonathan smirks and pulls me into a hug. I melt against him.

“How was dinner?” he asks as we start walking toward my apartment again.

“Fun, if a little crowded.”

Jonathan’s eyes wander to the people funneling around us. I can’t see his face, but I feel his distraction.

“Where’s your truck?” I ask, nudging his side with my elbow.

“Hmm?” He looks down at me. “Oh, I parked at your apartment.”

I smile. “That’s your idea of making yourself scarce, is it?”

We hear the blare of a trombone in the distance behind us, and Jonathan twists his head around to look back.

I stop, and Jonathan’s chest bumps my shoulder when he continues walking. He gives me a sheepish smile.

“You want to go to the parade, don’t you?” I ask. It makes sense. Jonathan loves Halloween. He’s a fun person. Why wouldn’t he want to go to a fun Halloween parade?

“I don’t have to go,” he says quickly.

“But you want to go,” I press.

He doesn’t answer, but I see the yearning written plainly on his face. He pulls me into another hug. With my nose smushed against his chest, I smell the mixture of cinnamon and citrus that always clings to him. It’s subtle; it doesn’t overwhelm even my sensitive olfactory nerves.

His mouth is against my hair, so his voice is muffled when he asks, “Would you come with me?”

I pull away and look into his face. He grimaces, knowing what he’s asking me.

“I … no.” I take a step back. It’s just not possible.

He takes my hand. “What if I stay with you the whole time? Like a bodyguard?”

A quiver of thrill runs through me. Could I do it? Could I watch the parade like everyone else? It does look fun, and Jonathan doesn’t ask me for much.

Jonathan sees the indecision on my face, so he plows forward. “Please? Carrots, if you can brave a boat in the middle of a hurricane, you can watch a parade. You’re strong and spunky and amazing.” His grin is cajoling, but his eyes are certain, locked on mine in a way that ignites my confidence.

“You won’t leave me?” I ask.

He quakes his head back and forth. “Not for a second.”

“And if it’s too much, and I want to leave?”

“We’re out of there immediately,” he confirms. “No questions asked.”

“Okay.” I nod, and his eyes light up like fireflies over the river. My heart swells that I can do this for him or at least try .

He swoops down, smacking a kiss against my lips. “Thank you! You won’t regret it. Trust me.”

And I do trust him.