Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(55)

Rake gave a grunt of approval as he bit into it, and Lizzie almost spit hers out.

Pizza was supposed to be safe, not sexy.

But Rake made it look very, very, very sexy.

She was about four seconds away from a heaving bosom.

“Wanna watch TV?” she asked, reaching with grabby hands for another slice. She needed to keep her mouth full and eyes distracted if she was to avoid mauling him.

“Sure.”

She turned on the TV and flipped to the Travel Channel, her favorite. It was one of the fifty identical shows where a host roamed around an exotic city, and Lizzie was hooked instantly. She nestled more firmly into the couch, tucking her feet up under her.

“God, could you imagine seeing a place like that in real life?” Rake asked, nodding his head at the gorgeous landscape on the screen. A waterfall tumbled from the edge of thick jungle brush, white foam cascading into tiered pools of soft turquoise water—a delicious color that reminded Lizzie of Rake’s eyes. She could almost feel herself floating in the warm water, little triangles of sunlight falling through the canopy above and creating a kaleidoscope of aquamarine.

“I’ve been there,” she said, shooting him a sly smile from across the couch.

He snorted. “Bullshit.”

“I have! It’s called Kuang Si Falls. It’s in Laos.” The show’s host relayed similar facts on a few-second delay, and Lizzie pointed at the screen. Rake still looked skeptical as he leaned over and squeezed the fleshy spot above her knee, making her yelp at the tickle.

“I have pictures! I went the spring I turned twenty.”

“That was your spring break? Laos?”

“What can I say, I’m very cultured and worldly.” Lizzie sniffed, tossing her hair back over one shoulder and pushing her glasses up her nose. Rake arched an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not cultured. But well traveled.”

“How’d you afford it?”

“Growing up, I hoarded away every dollar I was ever given. My family isn’t big into sentimental things, so nearly every holiday and birthday, I received money from one family member or another. And then the second I was old enough to get a job, I did. I spent any time I wasn’t in school working. I always said I was saving up for college, but I feel like part of me always knew I wouldn’t end up going. And then I’d find any other way to make some side cash. Did you know you can make, like, $180 a month selling your blood plasma?”

“I did not,” Rake said, looking at her like she was a bizarre creature.

“Yup, easy money. So, I saved up every penny, and then once I graduated high school, I took off. Too much world out there for me to see, and I couldn’t wait another minute.” The truth was, she would have lived in a cave in the woods to avoid staying in her mother’s home for one more day, if it had come down to that.

“Where all did you go?”

“All over. I’d usually pick a country to start, get a one-way ticket, and go as far as I could.”

“You didn’t run out of money?”

“I always ran out of money,” she said, laughing at the memories. “But I’d make do. I’d find a gig here and there, friendly strangers willing to feed me. This one time, I was staying in a hostel in Beijing, and I ran out of money to pay for the night. I met these German girls in a similar bind, and we started busking outside the hostel. One of them sang, and the other girl and I tap-danced. We earned enough money to get our bunks back and split a hot pot.”

“You tap-dance?”

“No, not at all—I’m a terrible dancer. But I’m great at faking my way through things. Give ’em the old razzle-dazzle,” she said, throwing in jazz hands for emphasis.

“That’s amazing. What happened to the German girls?”

“I’m not sure,” Lizzie said with a shrug, her brows pinching together as she tried to remember. They’d parted ways soon after, just another two faces in a constant ebb and flow. Lizzie was always great at meeting people, but never as good at keeping them. “I think they headed home after or something. Hard to remember.”

“Who would you travel with?”

“Oh, no one. I always went alone.”

“Alone?” Rake asked, sounding like a mother hen. “Wasn’t that lonely?”

“Lonely?” Lizzie repeated, the word tasting funny. “No, never. Being alone is half the fun. I did exactly what I wanted exactly when I wanted to. Never had to ask someone else what they wanted to see or eat or if they were okay staying in shitty hostels. Total freedom.” Her favorite feeling in the world. Lizzie valued freedom more than oxygen.

“But having no one to share the memories with? Isn’t that…” Rake trailed off, studying her closely.

Sad. The word he was searching for was sad.

But it wasn’t sad. Lizzie had been able to find people whenever she’d needed to. If sadness crept in at the edges, she’d approach a friendly smile, fall into bed with a beautiful stranger. It had been exactly what she wanted. What she needed. Faces and names passing by in a gentle stream around her.

Lizzie shrugged. “I didn’t need anyone to share them with. The experience was for me. Not anyone else.”

Rake nodded, but she could tell he didn’t really understand. “Where else have you been?” he asked, still watching her carefully.