39. Kendra
Kendra
It’s so hard to keep a straight face.
I’m not interested in Fisher. Maybe if I hadn’t already met Luther. But even then…
I watch Luther’s jaw clench.
Take in the way his muscles are bunched under his T-shirt.
Picture the way his thick thighs look in those jeans…
No. Even if I hadn’t met Luther until today, he still would’ve stolen all my attention.
My phone vibrates on my lap.
Papi: Make an excuse to go to the house.
Papi: Alone.
Papi: Now.
My heart rate thrums against my bones.
There are so many people here.
My dad is here.
This party is for me.
I can’t disappear.
Not for long.
I uncross my legs and slide forward so I’m sitting on the edge of my chair. “I’m gonna go plug my phone in and grab another drink. Want anything?” I ask Fisher.
I should ask the group as a whole, but I don’t want to take the chance that anyone will try to join me.
Fisher says he’s good, and before he can offer to help, I stand and slip between our chairs, heading toward the house.
My legs feel shaky, and I have to work to keep my breathing under control.
No one stops me. And Dad is sitting down, talking, his back to me, so I make it to the house without interruption.
I slow as I cross the deck, not sure how quickly Luther will be able to follow.
But as I close my hand around the handle, I watch my reflection in the glass. And I see the man approaching.