Luka
I had spent so many days, so many sleepless nights trying to forget.
Trying to move on.
Trying to find something solid in my life again so I could finally breathe.
And I did.
I was sleeping normally again. I had found some rhythm in my life. Things had settled down.
Despite everything happening around me, despite all the problems, all the complications, I had been pretty calm.
So why was it that now?
Why was my heart racing like crazy again?
Why was it happening while I stood on this damn sidewalk, surrounded by a crowd of reporters that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, watching him step out of an expensive black car polished to a shine?
After James called us yesterday and said they were ready to meet as early as tomorrow, I spent the rest of the day in a strange state of anticipation.
Of course, I wasn't nervous about the meeting.
I definitely wasn't counting the hours.
Of course not.
It wasn't that I particularly wanted to see him again.
No.
It was just... some strange tension that had been following me everywhere.
Now, standing here and watching Edward Monclair walk closer with every step, that feeling had reached its peak.
And maybe I should have been grateful for all that tension locked into every muscle in my body. Because even without seeing myself, I was pretty sure none of it was showing on my face.
That was a good thing.
Surrounded by all these reporters, the last thing I wanted was to look pathetic.
Or embarrassed.
Or nervous.
Or, even worse, shaking like a leaf.
Two other people got out of the car with him.
James, of course.
Where else would he be?
He was the hybrid Edward had personally chosen.
There was another man - a blond human.
Unlike Edward, who was serious, and James, who looked as if he would fall apart at any second, this guy seemed to be on a field trip.
His hands were in his pockets. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned. He constantly glanced around, as if taking in the local sights. And the whole time, there was a smug, slightly obnoxious grin plastered across his face.
Then came the awkward introductions with handshakes.
When Edward's hand touched mine, I thought, for the briefest moment, that it trembled.
But why would it?
Why would someone like him be nervous?
That was ridiculous.
I had definitely imagined it.
The reporters kept shouting questions, snapping photo after photo.
Fortunately, both Kazuo and I were able to remain calm. So hopefully, when all those articles came out, we wouldn't end up being seen as a couple of desperate beggars asking for help.
When we stepped back inside the bar, I was hit by a strange feeling. It was as though I had invited important guests into an apartment I forgot to clean.
Everything was dusty. The air smelled of paint. Construction materials were piled up all over the place.
This didn't look like a bar yet.
Not even close.
I quietly stepped aside and leaned against one of the walls, letting Kazuo handle the whole situation himself.
While he and Edward talked about something, the blond guy who had introduced himself as Michael wandered around the room, touching everything he could get his hands on.
One moment, he was sniffing something. Next, he was scratching at a surface with his fingernail. Then he would lean weirdly close to inspect some random detail.
It was odd.
It felt like he was evaluating us.
He walked over to James and swung an arm up, clearly about to throw it around the poor guy's shoulders.
Are they close?
Maybe they're a couple?
I felt a strange sense of… relief?
However, my assumption turned out to be completely wrong.
Before Michael's hand could even touch him, James ducked under his arm, avoiding the attempted hug.
The look on his face made it clear that he absolutely did not want to be touched.
Judging by that, they weren't close at all.
For some reason, that was disappointing.
"Sorry… what are you proposing?"
Irritation in Kazuo's voice immediately pulled my attention back to the conversation.
"A partnership," Edward replied calmly.
"A partnership?" I looked from Kazuo to Edward, completely confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"This fancy bastard here is offering some weird bullshit," Kazuo growled, rubbing his brow with two fingers.
"I am not offering bullshit," Edward replied with the same perfectly polite tone. "I am offering my help."
"Oh, for God's sake, enough with the act," Michael groaned, throwing his hands into the air.
He took a few steps toward Kazuo and stopped right in front of him.