Chapter 9
Lisa
By the time I finish my fifth glass of champagne, I’ve decided two things.
One: Tess is secretly funny in a dry, lethal kind of way.
Two: Blake Saxon is a problem.
Not in the life-ruining, move-across-the-country, cry-in-an-airport way.
In a much more inconvenient way. The sort of way that shows up in a black button-down. The sort that leans against a drinks table like he’s designed in a lab. Created to make women lose common sense. Though somehow he still looks at me like I’m the one causing trouble.
Which is frankly offensive.
I’m standing near the edge of the dance floor with Gwen and Tess. I try to pretend I am not scanning the room for him when he appears at my side again.
“I’m starting to think you came to this party just to judge everyone,” he says.
I glance at him. “That gives me way too much credit. I started judging everyone the second I got dressed.”
Blake grins. “And? What’s the verdict?”
I pretend to think about it, letting my eyes drift slowly around the room. “Too many egos. Not enough snacks. One or two decent outfits. One truly tragic dance move happening by the bar.”
“Be specific.”
“You,” I say sweetly.
He puts a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“You recover fast.”
“That’s true.” He leans a little closer. “What about you? Having fun?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s twice tonight.”
“What?”
“You saying maybe when you mean yes.”
I narrow my eyes. “You think you know me very well for a man who broke into my apartment.”
“I used a key.”
“That somehow makes it worse.”
He laughs, and there’s something annoyingly easy about it. Something that makes it feel like we’ve been doing this for years instead of… whatever this is.
I glance down at the drink in his hand. “What are you even drinking?”
“A beer.”
“How very sophisticated.”
“I left my monocle at home.”
That gets me. I laugh and immediately hate myself for giving him the satisfaction.
“There it is,” he says softly.
“What?”
“That laugh.”
I look at him properly then, and he’s smiling, but not in the smug, playful way he usually does. This one is quieter. Warmer.
I break eye contact first.
Obviously.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter.
“And yet you keep talking to me.”
“That could still change.”
“Sure,” he says easily. “But it hasn’t.”
Before I can come up with something cutting and clever, Jake brushes past us. He is holding a tray of drinks and nods at me like I’m some kind of queen he owes allegiance to.
Blake watches him go. Then looks at me. Then back at Jake.
“Did you really make him get you champagne again?”
“I said I was thirsty.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
His mouth twitches. “No. Just… effective.”
I take a slow sip of my drink and feel oddly pleased.
“Do you want to dance?” he asks suddenly.
I almost choke.
“No.”
“That was fast.”
“I like to be decisive.”
“You danced in fuzzy bunny slippers to Dolly Parton in your brother’s apartment. I know you dance.”
“That was private dancing. Entirely different sport.”
“So I should wait until you’re wearing slippers?”
“You should stop trying to gather data on me like I’m a science experiment.”
“Too late,” he says. “You’re fascinating.”
That should be cheesy. It should be. Instead, I feel heat crawl up my neck. He notices, because of course he does.
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“Purple dress, pink cheeks. Very coordinated.”
I elbow him lightly, his smile goes soft in a way that makes my stomach dip.
For one impossible second, the room around us blurs.
Then someone calls his name from across the room, and the moment loosens before I have to examine it too closely.
“Saved by the jocks,” I say.
He groans. “You really think all my friends are idiots, don’t you?”
“I think a room full of hockey players and free alcohol is a public safety risk.”
“That’s fair.”
He steps backward, eyes still on me.
“I’m not done talking to you,” he says.
I tilt my head. “That sounds threatening.”
“It’s a promise.”
And then he’s gone. He weaves back into the crowd like he was never standing close to me. Like he wasn’t close enough for me to notice the clean scent of his cologne or the way his voice drops when he says something real.
I exhale slowly. Tess appears at my side two seconds later, like she smelled the chemistry from across the room.
“You are in trouble,” she says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Leo and Zane drift back over at that point, and the group reshuffles around drinks, jokes, and music. For a little while, it feels easy again. Easy enough that I stop scanning exits. Easy enough that I forget to be careful.
Which, in hindsight, was my first mistake.
I’m chatting and dancing with Tess and Gwen when I notice a brunette standing close to Zane. A blonde girl lingers behind her, equally polished, equally drunk.
The brunette says something to Zane, and as she does, she places her hand on his chest. I quickly walk off the dance floor and storm toward her.
“Excuse me?” I say loudly while I step toward the girl and push her away from Zane. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Wait, you’re the girlfriend? They said she was fat. You’re not that fat,” the brunette says in a confused tone, and all I can do is look at Gwen. The way her eyes get watery, the way she is holding her breath, the way she stands frozen.
The girl moves closer to Zane, and without thinking, I push her again.
“Get away from my brother, now,” I say in a tone I myself am not familiar with. A small crowd is forming around us, but all I can do is look at Gwen.
“Leave,” Tess adds while she gets next to Leo, and he automatically puts his arm around her.
The brunette looks around the group and spots Gwen. When she does, she starts laughing.
“This is her? You know you can do better, right?” she asks, and before any of us can do anything, I raise my hand and slap the girl straight in the face.
“Bitch,” the blonde friend yells while she throws herself at me, and when she does, Gwen steps in and shoves her. She instantly defends me.
The group gathering around us is getting bigger. Multiple cellphones point at us. As we look around, everyone notices the same thing. Without saying another word, we walk toward the exit.
“Well, that sure was a party,” Tess says softly while we stand outside in the dark. “Besides the ending, I had a really good time,” Tess smiles, trying to lighten the mood.
I’m still trying to process the fact that I actually slapped someone. This isn’t like me at all.
“I got Tess and me a cab, shall we all have dinner or something next week?” Leo suggests, and we agree. I’m about to ask Zane if we can leave when Blake walks up to us.
“Hey man, I figured you’d might want to take your girl home and talk to her for a bit. I’ll drop Lisa off on my way back, ok?” Blake suggests to Zane.
“Thanks, man,” he says, and just like that, they hug goodbye. I know Gwen needs to be alone with Zane right now, but I also know when it comes to Blake, Tess was right. I’m in trouble.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Gwen says as she slowly walks up to me.
“Thank me? Are you kidding me? We’re friends, silly. She had no right to do that. Let’s have a coffee tomorrow or somewhere next week. I’ll give you my number,” I say excitedly, and Gwen smiles and gives me her phone.
“Are you going to be ok, sis?” Zane asks me while I hug Gwen goodnight.
“Of course,” I say as I hug him next. “Please make sure Gwen understands those idiot girls don’t know what they’re talking about,” I whisper.
“I will,” he replies before they walk away.
“Hey,” a cab driver says carefully, reading the mood in one glance. “Pick up for Saxon?”
“That’s us,” Blake responds, and I give him a look. A smirk forms on his face right away, and I can’t help but feel something in my stomach.
The cab is warm, which is good, because my hands are still cold from anger.
Not fear. Definitely not fear. Anger. Ok, maybe a little leftover adrenaline too. But mostly anger.
I stare out the window as the city slides past. I kick my heels off and tuck them under my seat. With one hand, I hold onto my clutch like I’m ready to use it as a weapon if necessary.
Beside me, Blake is quiet for the first three minutes, which is honestly more unnerving than the flirting.
Finally, he says, “That was hot.”
I turn to look at him.
“What?”
“The slap,” he clarifies. “Very memorable.”
I gape at him. “I assaulted someone in public.”
“She insulted Gwen.”
“That does not make it legally sound.”
“No,” he agrees. “But morally? I’m prepared to call it performance art.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, then immediately press my lips together.
Blake catches it.
“There she is.”
“Don’t make me hit you, too.”
He leans back against the seat, smiling. “Worth it.”
For a second, I just look at him. Really look.
His hair is a little messy from the night. His collar is open. His jaw is less tense than it was earlier. There’s something in his expression now that’s softer than the party version of him. Less showy. More deliberate.
“Thank you,” I say finally.
His smile fades into something gentler. “For what?”
“For offering to bring me home.” I glance out the window again. “For not making the whole thing weirder.”
“You did enough weird for everyone.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
That shuts me up.
The cab slows at a light, and I tuck one leg underneath me, turning slightly toward him.
“I didn’t expect that tonight,” I admit.
“The party?”
“The girls. The phones. The way everything changed in one second.” I swallow. “It was awful.”
Blake nods once. “Yeah.”
“But I’m apparently not great at standing still when people act like trash.”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t even know Gwen that well yet.”
“You know enough.”
His voice is low when he says it, and I can’t help but glance at him again.
“She defended me too,” I say softly. “When that blonde girl threw herself at me.”
Blake’s mouth tightens. “I saw.”
“She was shaking.”
“I know.”
We sit with that for a moment.