Somewhere Only We Know(20)

“Listen. I don’t know you.” I poked his chest with my slipper. “You’re just some random creep who brought me back to his place, so I don’t think this is the time for you to be acting sassy, do you?”

For a moment, his confidence seemed to flag, but then he bounced back with triple the zest. “You know me. Jack. Jack Lim.”

Jack. I remembered now. I recalled a flash of his smile on a steep street saying the same thing. And I remembered a few other things: A sturdy hand on my back as I stumbled down steep stairs on the bus. A slightly disapproving-auntie vibe as he sat next to me at a bar. That perv musician asking me to feed him ice cream. The butterflies, and Jack rushing me out of the bar. I also remembered that he didn’t know who I was.

A tiny flare of trust started to spread through my chest.

My eyes whipped up to his face, looking for a hint of last night’s chivalry in that self-assured expression.

He raised an eyebrow. “Hi?”

I frowned. “Are you American?”

An exaggerated wince. “Don’t hold it against me.”

Who was this guy? I had never met anybody so on in my life. And I worked in the freaking music industry!

“We already established this, Fancy Shoes. We’re both from California.” His gaze held mine warmly, and I flushed.

My instinct was to hide my face, but I remembered that he didn’t know who I was.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a Californian, anymore,” I said hesitantly. “I haven’t lived there in years.” The information slipped out too easily. Years of training usually had me more careful with what I revealed—not that me being American was some big secret or anything.

I knew I should be wary of this grinning confidence of his. It wasn’t that I trusted him exactly. It was that I didn’t want to care about trusting him. I was tired of living in a constant state of vigilance.

So I stood there instead of running away.

“You still have a Valley girl accent,” Jack said. I was about to protest, but the way his eyes stayed firmly on my face was distracting, and I felt the first annoying tingles of crushness.

How many times had I been half-naked on a stage, on a TV screen? After getting used to the feeling of being ogled, I’d grown numb to it. Men looked at me all the time—with equal parts reverence and lust. I’d learned to stop noticing. But for some reason, this guy’s eyes on my face, the genuine interest in his expression, made every inch of me hyperaware of him. I remembered, vaguely, his focus on me last night. Always concerned and interested.

I couldn’t stop noticing his attention because it was physically impossible.

While I stared back at him, Jack continued to speak, half-perplexed, half-amused. “So. Fern. What are your plans today? I think you owe me breakfast after last night.”

My mouth dropped open. Fern? Oh, God. Right. “Wha … why, what happened?” I frantically tried to remember if any funny business had happened between us.

“Nothing!” he exclaimed too quickly, his slick exterior slipping away for half a second. And was it my imagination, or did his cheeks turn red?

I was relieved, but I couldn’t quite figure out if it was from not having been despoiled, or if it was from knowing that if I had been despoiled, I would have wanted to remember it.

Either way, his blushing was cute.

He gathered his wits almost immediately. “I mean, I rescued you from getting arrested. That’s all.”

“You rescued me?” I scoffed.

He nodded. “Well, yeah. You were about to throw down with a huge bouncer.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I would never.”

“How drunk were you? Why were you out alone anyway?” he asked.

My huffiness returned. “That judginess in your voice right now? The least attractive thing, ever.”

“I’m more concerned about your well-being than how attractive I am to you.”

“Okay,” I said with a snort.

Jack grinned again. “Okay.”

It took a lot of willpower not to smile back at this guy. “Anyway, I wasn’t drunk.”

He guffawed. “Okay.”

I realized that I had no other explanation I could give him. I wasn’t drunk. Only completely out of it from sleeping pills mixed with anxiety meds, which I need to take to fall asleep every night of my life.

Yeah.

“Whatever. I need to get back to my hotel, so … thanks for whatever it is I should thank you for,” I said, pulling on my slippers, hopping from one foot to the other. Jack reached out to steady me with one hand, quick and unthinking. His hand was firm on my elbow. I glared at him and yanked it away, almost toppling over in the process.

When my slippers were finally on, even though I knew I looked silly, I felt somewhat in control. Untouchable. Like how I usually felt.

It was time for my cool exit.

I turned and started to walk away, my steps brisk and deliberate. This kid Jack would remember the day he had THE Lucky sleep over at his place and—

“Fern!” he bellowed down the hall. “How are you getting back? You don’t have a wallet or your phone.”

I faltered but kept walking, feeling around in my pockets. No! I had a vision of my phone on my hotel nightstand. Right where I had left it before going to bed. And I never carried a wallet anymore, it wasn’t necessary.