Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Tinker giggles. “But you didn’t drink it.”
“What’s with the names?”
I mean for the question to come out in a joking tone, but judging from the look the girls exchange, I sound like an aggressive asshole.
“Well,” Belle says. “We made a pact tonight. No names. No connections. Just fun.”
“You’re kidding,” Julian says. “We made the same pact. But aren’t you here for the texting event?”
“Who needs to text when we’ve got the real thing, huh?” Belle puts her hand on Julian’s arm.
When Tinker tries to touch me, I lean away. It’s rude, maybe, but I don’t want to be touched. Julian frowns at me.
Dammit. What is he expecting? I’m not going to throw myself at her. The last thing I want to do is drag her into the bathroom and have some seedy, quick, meaningless sex, which is probably what he’s planning to do.
Sometimes, it’s difficult to know if I’m the crazy one or if everybody else is.
“What do you do?” Belle asks Julian.
As Julian talks about his work—something he always enjoys—I look across the bar.
Three women are approaching the bar. One is tall, blonde, and dressed modestly. The other is a redhead, dressed anything but. It’s the one in the middle who interests me, though.
Is interest a strong enough word?
She’s got soft, light brown hair, somewhat tamed but with a hint of wildness that immediately ignites my interest. Unlike most other women here, she doesn’t wear a dress. She wears a sparkly black top with tight hip-hugging jeans emphasizing her curvy figure.
There’s something about her smile. Small, almost judgmental. It’s as if she feels just as out of place as I do here. Her red-haired friend throws an arm around her, saying something in her ear over the loud noise in the bar.
“Hey.”
I flinch when Tinker puts her hand on my arm.
She looks upset. Irrationally, she reminds me of Elliot and the dejected look he sometimes gets when I tell him I’m too busy to build a LEGO set with him.
“What’s up?”
“I asked what your job is, but if you’re too busy ogling somebody else, maybe I won’t even bother trying to make conversation.”
Julian is giving me some serious stinkeye now.
“I’m a surgeon,” I mutter, trying not to stare across the bar at the woman with the tight jeans and the obvious attitude.
“That’s an understatement,” Julian says. “He’s the Chief of Surgery. Ladies, you’re in the presence of medical royalty.”
He’s laying it on thick. It’s true. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, but I’d never describe myself as royalty.
“Whoa, that’s like, really impressive.”
I smile tightly. “Thank you… Tinker.”
Already, I’m thinking of ways to end this conversation. I don’t want a one-night stand.
I want to talk to the woman leaning against the bar, looking around with an expression that says, What the hell am I doing here?
I know the feeling, stranger.
CHAPTER 3
TORI
“The bartender said the event’s going to start soon,” Cleo says, swaying her hips from side to side as we walk across the bar.
She’s doing it on purpose and with more confidence than I ever could. It’s not that I hate my body or have any serious body-image issues or anything. Well, at least, that’s what I tell myself. But I’m still far from ever moving or behaving like that.
“Are you going to text all night?” Cleo teases Lily.
“Isn’t that the point of tonight?” Lily counters.
“Yes, but we’re supposed to be texting Casanovas with steamy promises and then meeting them on the beach for some rumble-tumble fun, which we may or may not regret in the morning… Somebody save me.” She makes this proclamation at the ceiling.
I giggle. “I never took you for a praying girl, Cleo.”
“It’s not bad enough that I’ve got Little Miss Engaged over here, but look at you, Tori. I mean, it’s sacrilegious.”
“What is?”
“You’re drinking a soda.”
“Leave her alone,” Lily says. “You know why.”
Cleo bites down, realizing her mistake. “I’m sorry, Tori. But would one drink hurt?”
“I’m no teetotaler, but…”
Neither of my friends needs me to finish. Mom does enough drinking for both of us. It’s not complicated, even if it is a cliché.
“Speak of the devil,” I mutter when my phone vibrates.
“Whoa, freaky,” Lily mutters.
Cleo rolls her eyes.
“Don’t start calling me superstitious,” Lily says.
“Don’t pout at me, chica,” Cleo replies with a grin. “What else am I supposed to call you when you believe in horoscopes and love at first sight, huh?”
“Well… you only believe in sex at first sight.”
“I would’ve said ‘fuck at first sight.’”
When Lily cringes, Cleo laughs again. I want to join the banter, but the vibrating phone and Mom’s name distract me.
“Are you going to get that?” Lily asks.
“I’d rather walk over hot coals, to be honest. But she’s my mom, as annoying as that is. I’ll take it outside.”
I leave by the rear exit, nodding to the chef and one of the busboys before slipping into the alleyway. The Miami night is warm for February, and the air feels stifling. Or maybe that’s just the prospect of the phone call.