19. Rhodes
19
Rhodes
M aybe Roger is a better dancer, or better at listening to upbeat pop while people bump into you for hours. Add the neon lights, fog machines, and faces of angsty teenagers on the walls, and I’m sweating.
“What do you want to drink?” Paige yells over the loud pitch being expelled from the speakers.
She looks perfect tonight in a pair of short jean shorts with a rolled hem, graphic tee, and a pair of aviator glasses she bought last year. They make her look like a cuter version of Napoleon Dynamite. Direct eye contact is making me want to kiss her in a dark hallway with Edward peering down at us.
“Water?” I reply.
She slaps me on the back, and my chest pushes further into the bar. “You can’t just have water .”
“Water with lime.”
She tilts her head. “How about I order for you?”
I swallow and nod. I’m sure I look like a frightened animal, and it wouldn’t be that far off. Bars aren’t my usual scene. I prefer menus without literal grease on them and maybe something green in the kitchen that does not resemble mold .
“Two Mac she wants you, man.”
My heart leaps to my throat. Nothing Delia is saying is computing, but there’s a piece of me that still holds out hope that what she’s saying is true. That Paige likes me because of me .
“What am I supposed to do now?” She’s in this as my dating coach, essentially. “She’s falling for Roger, who she doesn’t know is me, while also wanting to see if Rhodes is going to leave her for someone else.”
Delia looks over at Paige, and I follow her gaze. Paige is leaning against the bar, sipping her beer and pretending not to watch us. Her eyes slide to mine, then dart away just as fast, and she can’t stop moving around like she’s trying to get a better look while not appearing obvious. But she is.
“Maybe you should try getting her to react, step in, do something about her feelings.”
My feet shuffle while my knees stay locked tight. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“You dance with me.”