I got it right Justine. Feel into it. Your sense of being a misfit blinds you to what your heart really wants. When you get around solid upstanding men you’re like a bird with tinfoil. It makes you incoherent on a romantic level.”
“My affection is incoherent unless it’s for you That’s the line you’re giving me here ”
“This is real.” He points out the door. “That isn’t.
Without warning, Packard reaches out--I think he's going to touch my cheek, but he slides his hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me to him, kissing me warm and strong, lips soft, breath like coffee. The kiss takes me by surprise. My whole body wants to follow deeper into him, but he pulls away, and we're looking into each other's eyes, and the moment stops. And everything seems to fall out beneath me.
"Good luck," he whispers.
"Packard--"
He opens the door. "It's okay."
I stare at the open door. It feels like a closed door. And I leave.
Stichwörter: packard
Are you sure we shouldn't have the cops or more guys or something?"
"Don't you worry, buttercup," Francis says. "Anything more is extra time and a herd of elephants.
Stichwörter: humor
You have the most contact with Packard."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do," they say in unison.
"You just saw him," Helmut says.
"He had to deliver some gloves to me," I explain.
Helmut raises an eyebrow. "And he couldn't have sent them with one of his people?"
I don't answer. I'm thinking about those pretty gloves, clearly chosen to match that specific dress of mine. So thoughtful. Did he pick them out himself?
Helmut snorts. "And what was he wearing?"
"A dinner jacket," I say, "but just to blend in with the crowd."
"And did you share any food or beverage-"
"It wasn't a date."
Simon tips his glass into his mouth and chews ice loudly.
"It wasn't a date.
Do you have no sense of decency?"
He pauses, seems to think about this, then turns and walks out the door.
Stichwörter: packard
God, Packard! Do you know how hard I worked at
it?” I twist up the napkin and whip it at him.
He deflects it. “There we go; I knew you could do it.”
My mouth falls open. “Very funny.”
He just laughs.
“I can’t believe you!
Oh.” Packard steps back. “I didn’t come in here for
this.”
“I didn’t either.”
There’s this silence where it seems like one of us
ought to utter a sentence that begins with the word yet.
You know what happens when you give a kid a calculator instead of teaching him math?"
"I think you need my help." I cross my arms. "You know what happens when you give a kid a calculator instead of teaching him math?"
He tilts his head, his eyes fetchingly bright.
"Sure he can do math that way," I continue, "but then if you take the calculator from him, suddenly he can't do any math at all, because he's
learned to rely on the calculator. Your power lets you look at people and see exactly what it takes to make them tick. Or crumble. But without
your power, you don't get people.
I can't say Ah now?"
"No," I say sternly.
"Even if it's purely innocent? A genuine Ah? Not even that?" He makes a pleading face. It looks silly on him; he's never been the pleading type.
He bats his cinnamon lashes once. "Not even ..."
I try not to laugh.
He keeps the face going and
People want view of beauty. Pfft. I say, do not give me lies.
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