Page 4 of Velvet Varnish

The food sticks in my throat and I swallow harshly, coughing when the food doesn’t move.

Chloe shoves a glass of water at me. “What’s your face doing? It’s all red and your eyes are freaky.”

“I’m fine.” Cool water soothes my spluttering.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Did you know?”

Not willing to answer her question yet, I shrug and pick at my cuticles. I haven’t told Chloe about the book exchange we do. She already thinks I should get over myself and be honest with him. This would give her more ground to argue. We exchange books. So what? It doesn’t mean anything.

Although he’s never given me a book at the bar before, we’ve only exchanged them after I finish his nails. And his offer to text him was unusual. I have his number, but all the shop owners have each other’s numbers. I’ve only ever texted him about our appointments.

“Maybe.”

“Isla, how do you know he has a book for you?”

“He told me.”

“When.”

“When I saw him last.”

Chloe crosses her arms. “You do his nails but always say he never talks.”

“He talks sometimes.” My eyes lock with hers, her green eyes gaze into my soul, but I break first. “We kind of have a book club,” I admit.

“What?” Chloe gapes and leans over the table again, grabbing my hand. “Tell me everything.”

I pry my hand from hers. “There isn’t anything else to tell. We bring each other books and talk about them.”

“You have the same book taste? I find it hard to believe Dom reads the same things as you.”

My finger runs across the wood grain on the table. “We prefer different genres, but he tries what I recommend. He’s started giving me less intense thrillers.”

Chloe’s eyes widen. “You’ve been reading thrillers? You hate them.”

“But he doesn’t.” My hand rubs across my forehead, and I thank the waitress when she sets down our drinks. I gulp mine and follow it with salty food. “I wanted to talk to him about something. Besides, it goes both ways. He reads the fantasy books I like.”

“You need to tell him.” Chloe ignores the food and drinks. Instead, she continues to stare into my soul with her eyebrows brought together in concern.

“Tell him what?”

“Isla. You’re both putting in effort to learn about each other. Trying what they like. That’s what people who care about each other do.”

I nod. “Because we’re friends.”

“No. Because you’re both in love with each other,” she says, exasperated.

I bite my lip and hiss when I pull a hang-nail back too far. Really shouldn’t do that, I know better, but it’s a distraction from Chloe’s statement. It isn’t true, but what I would give for him to love me.

I’ve been doing his nails almost as long as my salon has been open. At first, it was to practice designs and learn more about my trade, but now I have clients who would be more than happy to help. Now it’s about talking to him, seeing his face, wondering what he thought about my book recommendations, and what he’s going to wear the next time I see him. It’s enough seeing him every month. It has to be. Seeing him at the bar doesn’t count. I hardly ever get to talk to him.

“Hey, Isla.”

I squeak and jump in my seat, eyes flying to him. Dom’s standing next to our table, a book clenched in his hand, his eyes more grey in this light, roaming over me. I drink him in. His hair is messier than usual, as if the night has already proven stressful. His blue T-shirt stretches across his shoulders and clings to his chest.

“Hi.”

He glances at Chloe. “The salon going well?”