Chapters (54)
‘You’re insufferable,’ she says, shaking her head. She doesn’t need an actor reminding her of her plainness. ‘And also, you might look good on camera but in real life you’ve got a very unnerving nose, so you’re no oil painting either, buddy.’
Duke raises his eyebrows, opens his mouth, and then snaps it shut. They don’t talk after that, and Evie enjoys the ride, the wind lightly in her hair, the lights blurring as she lets her focus soften.
‘I’ve had enough now,’ Duke says, when it’s done.
‘Oh …’ replies Evie, struggling to hide her disappointment.
Duke laughs.
‘What?’ she asks.
‘Nothing.’ He shakes his head and does something with his brow – crumples it, like he’s very tired.
‘No, go on – what?’ Evie presses.
‘I was just thinking,’ Duke tells her, ‘that maybe you’ve missed your calling. You’re a good actress. You almost sounded genuinely upset to be going home just then.’
Evie is stunned. He’s being mean, again, and it’s clear that earlier wasn’t a one-off when he was cruel about her looks. He actually doesn’t like her, really does think he’s better than her.
‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Go home. I’m going to do one more turn around the fair. Have a good night,’ she snaps, sauntering off.
He’s a pig, she thinks to herself, meandering through the crowds. He’s got no idea how he makes other people feel, the self-centred dweeb.
She turns around, then, for no discernible reason than she feels compelled to. And there he is: Duke, looking after her, watching her walk away.
Evie throws her arms up, asking him wordlessly: What?!
Duke shakes his head, jaw slackened, expression wounded, which is a bit rich considering he’s the buffoon. Evie decides to stare him out; she will not cower from him, will not pander to his moods. She didn’t even want to be here, remember? And now she’s a central player in this farcical few weeks and he has got the nerve to have attitude!
She wins. Duke turns away. And Evie hates herself for noticing the curve of his ass and the confidence to his walk as he does so, the curl of his fingers at his sides, his width, everything.
So he’s hot, she scolds herself. So what? What’s hot when it’s all window dressing?
But she still doesn’t look away. She keeps one eye on that window dressing until he’s out of sight, and even then the thought of him lingers in her mind.