Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
A short woman in a tight black dress and thick makeup studies us intensely.
Do I look as out of place as I feel? My outfit screams spoiled rich girl, not I love Robert Smith. And that’s fair because I don’t really like Robert Smith. I don’t hate The Cure—who could—but I don’t buy into the sentimentality, either.
Crying over pictures of someone?
Realizing you’re in love because it’s Friday—
What is that song even saying?
It’s probably about drugs. Most of the best “love songs” are. Mom taught me that. Along with her preference for seventies singer-songwriters over eighties soft boys.
“That’s my ex,” River says as he stares at the bartender.
“But this isn’t your scene?” I ask.
“Do me a favor?” He takes my hand and leads me toward the bar. “Don’t take the bait.”
“What bait?”
“Whatever she throws out there.”
Okay. “A favor for a favor.”
He nods whatever and slips his hand around my waist.
My stomach flutters. Which is silly. I’m only here to keep the guy busy. Sure, he’s obscenely hot now, but—
“Alice.” He greets the bartender with a smile. “This is a nice surprise.”
She offers a scowl in response. “I thought you were in New York.” She packs a why didn’t you stay in New York, as far away from me as possible into the sentence.
“I was,” he says. “I am. I’m visiting.”
“It’s been a while,” she says.
“It has.”
Alice studies me the way other women study Lexi, with a glint in her eyes that tells me I’m competition.
I’m used to the feeling in academic and professional settings, but here? My cheeks flush. My chest swells. A strange mix of pride and self-consciousness fills my body. “It’s nice to meet you, Alice. I’m Deanna.” My manners kick in and I offer my hand. First, an introduction. Then a compliment. “I love your dress.”
“Thanks.” She shakes with a firm grip. “You, too. On both counts.” She looks to River. “It’s a slow night. Plenty of dance floor to ignore.”
“River doesn’t dance?” I ask.
“He asked me to senior prom,” she says. “Then he stood there, on the sidelines, the whole time. But maybe he’s learned.”
Oh. She definitely thinks I’m his girlfriend. And that I dance, I guess. Which I do, but how would she know that by looking at me?
“I dance,” he says.
Alice scoffs and moves on to more pressing matters. “Still drinking cosmos?”
“They’re pink,” he says, as if that explains anything to anyone other than me.
They’re Lexi’s drink. That’s the reason.
Alice looks to me. “Cosmo for you, too, princess?”
“With your best vodka. And no triple sec. Cointreau or bust.”
She grins. “You know your cocktails.”
“I dabble,” I say.
“Have you bartended?” she asks.
I nod. “For a semester in college.”
“Now?”
“I’m a programmer,” I say.
“A nerd,” she says to River. “That is your speed.” She addresses me again. “We have fresh lime, but our cranberry is a mix.”
“I’ll live.”
She smiles warmly at me, then turns to River and goes straight to ice. “Have you ever asked him about his art?”
“What specifically?” I ask.
“The project with the blonde,” she says.
I’m sure there are a lot of projects with a blonde. The same blonde, in different settings. Especially back when he was in high school. Those were his peak Lexi years.
“We were going to work on a project together,” she says. “A fantasy musical.”
“Ambitious,” I say.
“That’s high school. He had this whole role cast. A beautiful blonde princess,” she says.
Okay, I see where this is going.
River shoots Alice a don’t look.
She ignores it. “The sketches were beautiful. And specific. I thought maybe she was based on someone. An Old Hollywood celebrity. Or maybe his mother. Have you ever seen a picture of his mother?”
“Yes.” I’ve seen the pictures in his grandma’s house, and I saw her once or twice when she came to visit. She looks more like River. Dark hair, dark eyes, intense stare.
“Then you know,” Alice says. “Not a blue-eyed blonde with fuck-me tits.”
“That’s a rude way to describe another woman’s body.” Even if Lexi uses it herself, as a compliment-slash-question to mean is this outfit sexy enough.
“Not the woman. The drawing. She was pure male fantasy.” She fills a cocktail shaker with vodka, fresh lime, orange liqueur, cranberry. “The woman was pretty, too. Not quite so exaggerated.”
That’s my sister she’s talking about. I bite my tongue. “She can’t help having great tits.”
“Is she okay?” Alice asks River.
River laughs. Amused by me, again. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re right, though. I shouldn’t judge other women. Especially given my outfit.” She points to her own ample, well-displayed chest. “And my own taste in women,” she adds. “But I’m not the better person.”
Is that an apology? I can’t tell.
“I still hate River,” she says. “But I’m not mad anymore. I’m just glad I got out. Do you know how awful it feels to love someone who’s in love with someone else?”
“I do,” I say.
River raises a questioning brow at me, and I want to kick myself for letting that slip.