Chapter 125
Nolan
"Nothing is funny," I mutter, glaring at the TV like it personally wronged me.
"Right? Look at her." Ciel leans forward beside me, squinting at the reporter who's practically glowing. "What is she laughing for?"
"Exactly," I say. "She keeps touching his arm. Why is she touching his arm? That's not professional."
"And she's leaning in too much," Ciel continues, voice rising. "Look at her. Look. Leaning into his chest like she's trying to smell him."
"Can she even smell him?" I ask.
"Doesn't matter!" he snaps. "It's the intention."
We both lean closer to the screen, offended in perfect harmony.
Jack is on screen, smiling in that annoyingly charming, polished-prince way that makes the entire kingdom swoon.
His hair is slicked back. His suit fits like it was crafted by angels. His laugh is warm, soft, practiced.
Ciel and I stare at the TV like two fathers watching their teenage daughter flirt with a thirty-year-old biker.
I feel my eye twitch.
