13
Seeing as how Anders and John have exchanged fewer than three words in thirty minutes, my promise to avoid an awkward night feels like false advertising.
The two men greeted each other, led us to a booth overlooking the dozens of pool tables and a heavily populated curved bar, and haven’t said a word since.
Valerie returns from the bar with a round of double shots for our table, and I refrain from thanking God outside my own thoughts.
“Here”—I push two of the wet glasses toward Anders—“loosen up.”
Valerie downs one herself before snuggling up beside John, holding his glass to his lips. Anders scowls at them, and I grab his chin to do the same.
This earns me a frown. I give him a look that reads You’re not helping. He returns one that reads I’m at a bar with what used to be a close friend who’s marrying my sister. He wins the silent argument, but downs the shot anyway.
“Come on,” Valerie says. “You’re really not drinking?”
“No,” I say. “My liver is on its last leg right now. I’ll stick to water.”
“Don’t be a bore.” Valerie pushes a shot at me.
Anders takes it and drinks it in a gulp. My gaze watches the way his Adam’s apple bobbles, and something about the movement sends a jolt of heat between my legs. He peels the glass away, and leftover whiskey gathers at the side of his lips, slowly slipping down his chin.
Jesus Christ, Lucinda, you’re like a dog in heat.
In a humiliating moment, my hands act of their own accord, lifting themselves to wipe away the droplet. I freeze, hand midair, as his gaze pins me in place.
Anders takes my thumb to his mouth and swipes the liquor from his skin. The act alone is enough to send my stomach into a frenzy. But then he pulls my thumb into his mouth and sucks the alcohol from my finger.
An arrow of heat shoots itself directly between my legs.
Unable to resist the instinctual urge to rub them together and relieve the heat building, I cross them, snatch my hand away from Anders, and direct my attention to John.
“So, sorry to be blunt, but as much as it makes Anders feel awkward, I’m so interested in you two.” I smile between them. “I mean, John, you must have only seen Valerie in tiny moments between hanging with Anders. What was the moment you realized you had feelings for her?”
He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking at Valerie for immediate assistance with what I would assume is a very basic question.
“We’ve always had these little moments the few times I was around when he was visiting Anders.
” Valerie speaks for him. “Questioning glances, tiny brushes, but I just thought he was my brother’s cute friend, never made it a big deal.
Then, when we saw each other at that party, I don’t know, everything just clicked.
We realized it could never work with anyone else because we were meant to be.
There aren’t words to explain it; you just feel it.
We couldn’t be apart. We couldn’t, wouldn’t, let anything come between us. ”
I face John. “What was coming between you two?”
“What wasn’t?” Valerie answers again. “The obvious one is scowling right beside you.”
In answer, Anders grabs a free glass and takes another shot.
“Like him, Aunt Bethany had a big problem with us. Thinks the age gap is too large, but it’s not like I’m freshly eighteen years old and he’s been waiting by the clock until I officially became legal. Is seven years really that bad?”
“It’s a big gap,” I admit, “but you are an adult.”
“Thank you,” she says pointedly, “and I can make my own decisions. Sleep with who I want to sleep with.”
“Christ—” Anders mutters.
“John is the one who didn’t want to pursue it. I’m the instigator. He kept pulling away from me, kept shutting me down because he was worried he’d ruin his friendship with Anders. But love is love, and it can’t be contained.”
“Are you still worried about that?” I ask John. “About how you and Anders can’t even look at each other right now?”
“Lucinda—” Anders starts, and I wonder if I came off too strong. But really what I’m hearing is that, eventually, John stopped caring about Anders’s feelings, and if so, fine, but what was it that made him stop?
“I guess,” I say, trying to put together some missing pieces, “what I’m trying to ask is, why right now? Why have you decided Valerie is the one. What happened?”
“What is this, an interrogation?” Valerie asks.
“A friendly questionnaire,” I assure her, but the way she doesn’t speak for John leads me to believe that this is a question she, too, would like an answer to. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” John answers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of music and vibration of drunken conversations.
“I just fell in love with her. I know it’s fast, but we’ve been without each other for this long, we want to hurry up and spend the rest of our lives together.
” He looks toward Anders. “I’m sorry if it’s come between us. ”
“It hasn’t,” Anders answers smoothly, and I can’t tell if he’s just saying that, or if he thinks they’ll be okay in the future, once John and Valerie don’t marry.
“This is bringing the vibe down,” Valerie says. “We need more drinks.”
“I’ll get this round,” I offer, trying to wiggle out of the booth, but Anders is in the corner seat, and I need him to move, or I’ll have to shove my ass in his face to get out.
When I see his mischievous smirk, I shove him. “Get up,” I say, the words caught in a laugh.
He moves out, takes my hand, and helps me up. “I’ll go with you.”
I place my hands on his shoulder and shove him back down. “I’m a big girl,” I say, and he grabs my arm, pulling me toward him.
“Take my card,” he says, and though half of me thinks the sound and feel of his words on the skin beneath my ear is more pleasurable than humanly possible, it’s a little embarrassing he thinks I can’t cover one round of shots.
I can’t, but still. That’s what credit cards are for—future me problems.
“I can handle it.” I tap his cheek gently and head to the bar.
There’s no real line anywhere, just pockets of people all trying to flag down the bartenders.
After scanning the crowd, I set my sights on a man with cropped hair and a shirt nearly bursting at the seams around his biceps.
I pull my white top lower, so my breasts—aided by my very best push up—nearly spill out.
This maneuver gets several men to offer me their spots, so it takes mere seconds for me to reach the sticky bar, and even less for my target bartender to ignore his other patrons and come to me.
“What can I get you, beautiful?” he says in a drawl.
“Three double shots of whiskey.” I lean in, pressing my breasts together, fluttering my eyelashes.
“Keep looking at me like that, darling, and I couldn’t possibly charge ya.”
“Yeah.” I reach over and run my nail up his arm. “Prove it.”
He holds a hand over his heart before moving along, making my shots like a good, easy man.
Life is hard, but taking advantage of horny men is always easy.
He gives me a performance as he pours my shots, then places them across from me. “What’s your name?” he asks, his gaze trained on my chest.
“Lucy.”
“Lucy,” he repeats, “and what’s your number?”
I gather the drinks close to my chest. “You’ll learn that when I get my second round.” I wink at him and turn, nearly spilling all the drinks on my chest when I bump into Anders.
Before I have the chance to feel embarrassed by being caught in the act, he reaches to help hold the cups. “That,” he says, “was—”
“Manipulative?” I offer.
“—magical,” he counters, “and for some reason”—his hand lingers over mine as he takes the remaining drinks—“incredibly sexy.”
It’s not that I disagree—I know it was; it’s why I got the free drinks. But in this moment, I know with full certainty that Anders is attracted to me. More than a general appreciation of acknowledging someone is just conventionally good looking.
But witnessing me charm another man, hike up my breasts, and flirt my way to a deal has made him look at me like he wants to devour me. And God, do I want to let him.
Which is exactly why I chose not to drink. I’m going to be clear headed. Focused on Valerie, my actual job, and not what sex-hungry Lucy wants. Though it pains me to, I move away from Anders and give him a friendly shove.
“Well, hope you enjoyed the show,” I say as we weave through couples and rowdy groups. “Now that he sees me with you, he’s not going to offer me another round.”
“Do exactly what you did to him to me,” he says as we reach the table, “I’ll give you my bank account information.”
I laugh so hard it shakes me, and I smack his arm enough some of the drinks spill before he can place them on the table, and we take our spots again.
“What’s so funny?” Valerie asks as we rejoin. “I like to laugh.”
“Lucinda charmed the bartender.”
“Scammed,” I say, though I appreciate the fluffed words. “I could have got several more rounds if somebody hadn’t shown up.”
Anders grabs my hand, presses a kiss at the center of it. “My deepest apologies.”
It is so teenage-like, this night, the way Anders is pulling giggles from me every other minute. The way my cheeks are forcing themselves to keep from smiling. The way I keep catching him watching me, smiling too.
“Gross,” Valerie says, “and cute.” She scans the space behind us, so I turn to find where she’s looking.
“No more free drinks from that guy, but look for the redheaded woman. She owns the place and always gives me drinks on the house.” As though the woman hears herself being talked about, she catches our gazes and waves. “I’ll tell her to look out for you.”
“Noted.”
Anders wraps an arm around me, pulling me as close as possible beside him.
Though I know he’s playing it up for our lie, I can’t help but notice the inches of distance between John and Valerie.
I’m struggling to see the connection, the romance, and I can’t tell if I’m biased by Anders’s wish for them not to be together, or if there’s something off about them in general.
“What’s next for wedding planning?” I ask Valerie, knowing changing subjects is better in the long run. I don’t want to make it obvious I’m prying. “Anything I can help with?”
Valerie groans, hitting her head on the cushion behind her.
“Maybe. Probably.” She takes a drink, her manicured nails gripping the glass, and downs it in one gulp.
“My maid of honor, the bitch, is in the Peace Corps. Literally. She was supposed to be back this month to help plan, but she’s stuck in Belize with these annoyingly cute kids that want her to stick around for their soccer tournament. ”
“So, she’s a generous bitch,” I say.
Valerie laughs. “Yeah, that’s right. Generous to everyone but me right now. She had one little epiphany about wanting to be a better person after a night out, and now she’s thousands of miles away. So rude.”
“Well, I too am generous, if you need anything while she’s away making the world better than how she found it.”
Valerie narrows her eyes at me, then, at my chest. I blink, and she’s completely over the table, and her hands are feeling my boobs, then my stomach, back to my chest.
All the thoughts written in my mind go blank, a dry-erase board washed clean.
“Christ, Valerie.” Anders shoves her away, and my thoughts slowly write themselves back in my brain.
“Relax.” She sits back in her seat. “I won’t take your girlfriend.” She wiggles her brows at me. “I could if I wanted, I bet, but you know, you and Cierra are around the same size. You’re probably a little taller, but the proportions are almost the same.”
“Then she must have a great ass too,” I point out.
Valerie barks out another laugh. “Okay, please, come to the bridesmaid fitting coming up. Cierra wants me to pick out something for her. This way, I’ll be able to see how the dresses would fit her body type.”
“Just give me a time and place.”
“You’re the best,” she says, and her eyes go wide and deerlike. “Ever since I met you. Who would have thought Anders would have such good taste?”
Anders tightens his grip around me, and I smother all the usual thoughts that float to the surface. The This is fake, how will she feel when it comes to light? And, most urgently, in neon flashing lights in the script of a business’s flashing Closed sign: Do not sleep with Anders.
Instead, I ease up and lean into it all. For one night, I’ll just have some fun. I’ve secured another place beside Valerie, and I’ll continue to plant seeds and find cracks to slip in.
But—I grab my water—I’m still going to be sober. It’s a lot safer that way.
We have more rounds of drinks, laugh, and even John opens up, albeit barely, to share some stories about Valerie. Whenever they ask us to do the same, I hurriedly press them for more, and they’re all so drunk nobody seems to notice.
But then Valerie grows curious about me and my life, and it’s easy to share the truth. To talk about busy but loving parents, and precious dogs, and a sister that feels like a soulmate, and I find that opening up to her, to Anders, feels real.
I’ve been worried how it’ll affect the people I’m leaving when this is all over. Maybe . . . maybe I have to worry about myself.
Despite the new worry, the night passes quickly and lightly. Eventually, John whispers to Valerie, and she announces he has an early morning meeting, and they should get going. We say our goodbyes, and I turn to Anders.
“Should we head out?” I ask, my hands reaching into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll drive.”
He places his hands over mine, pinning them there. “Not yet,” he says, his gaze warm and focused. “I don’t want this night to end.”
“Why?” I say lightly. “You want to spend more time with me?”
It’s a joke, at least to me, but Anders moves his hands to my wrist, his thumb caressing the skin there. “I do,” he says, and there is no humor in the declaration.
Though his words elicit warmth throughout my body, I notice then that he’s drunk. The sight of him, his eyes wide and pleading, and his lips just slightly pouted, is so incredibly endearing and a little pathetic—which somehow makes him even sexier.
“I don’t know,” I sing, holding out the possibility like a tease.
His hands move from my arm to the base of my neck. “Please?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
The sound of it, the sight of him, is like an enchantment. The word is out of me before I can think it. “Okay.”