10. Sophie
TEN
SOPHIE
Foster is proving to be an incredible actor. I think I may be too, but only because he’s making it easy for me. When he slid his hand around my waist and rested it on my hip, leaning into him more seemed like the thing I’d do if this was real. Watching Edwin’s eyes track the movement and then the smile that he tried to hide sends a shiver of triumph through me. We are nailing this.
“So what do you do, Foster?” Nolan asks, grabbing a passing appetizer and tossing it in his mouth.
“I’m an educational assistant,” Foster replies, his thumb slipping under the edge of my dress where it opens at my hip. An entirely different kind of shiver runs through me this time.
“Cold?” he asks, moving his attention from Nolan and Edwin to me.
“Nope.” I smile innocently back at him.
“My cousin is an EA. You people are saints,” he exclaims.
Foster shrugs. “Just patient. I’m definitely not a saint.” And fuck me sideways, upside down, and right-side up because the little grin he includes has me thinking things a friend should not be thinking.
Nolan looks over at me and bounces his eyebrows. “Lucky lady!” Okay, so I’m not the only one who read a bit more into that.
I laugh, probably a bit too loud, before looking up at Foster to find those amber eyes already on me. He’s too fucking good at this. At this rate I’m going to be his first cult follower.
“Yes, definitely lucky.” I pull my lip back between my teeth, looking up at him through my eyelashes and he does exactly what I hoped he’d do.
His featherlight touch somehow reaches to the back of my knees as he pulls my lip free with his thumb again. “Only I get to mess up those lips, babe.” He grins again. Yes, I think, I want that. I just hope he never calls me Gregory’s preferred term of endearment again.
I somehow manage to keep it together and play along. “I do like when you do that.” We haven’t looked away from one another, and it’s as if the room has entirely faded away. Until Nolan or Edwin clears his throat. “Would you believe he bakes me cookies?” I say almost giddily, turning back to them.
I watch as Edwin does a full-body scan of Foster with his eyes narrowing. “No one that looks like you should be able to bake and be good in bed. It’s not fair.”
“Hello! If everyone could take their seats, dinner is about to be served.” The announcement saves us from further discussion on what else Foster is too good-looking for. It doesn’t stop me, however, from wondering just how good he is at all the things.
As we make our way back to the table my heart plummets. Gregory, always a gentleman in public, is pulling out his girlfriend's chair. Foster squeezes my hand again and as we reach our seats he pulls me closer, his lips settling next to my ear.
“You’ve got this, sunshine, and I’ve got you.” His whisper sweeps across my skin, sending more tingles to far more intimate areas than the back of my knees.
I draw back a little so I can look him in the eye. “I’m going to owe you cookies after this.”
“You haven’t met my friends yet,” he says, pulling my chair out. “You’ll probably be expecting cookies for life.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I sit, doing my best to keep my focus on him. I can feel the asshole’s eyes on me, and it turns my stomach. “Just no raisins. I had a bad experience as a child.”
I see his shoulders shake in a silent laugh as he sits next to me, sliding his chair a bit closer so he can rest his arm on the back of mine. Every movement he makes seems so natural, to anyone else it would look like he does this all the time.
“That time you sneezed while eating an oatmeal raisin cookie and a raisin got lodged in your nose?” he says it so casually, as if he didn’t just pull a memory from when I was ten out at the drop of a hat.
“You remember that?”
“Hard not to. Cass thought you were going to die.”
“She has always been the dramatic one,” I say as his finger trails over my shoulder, sending sparkler-tinged chills down my arm. Now who’s being dramatic?
“I remember Cass freaking out, then my mom running out of the house expecting to see blood everywhere or something and there you were, eyes watering and looking worried. She had you blow your nose really hard and out came the raisin.”
“Then Cass gagged for about half an hour.” The entire scene is becoming clearer now. “And you wanted to see it.”
“It was disappointing. All that fuss for what was essentially a wet raisin.” He tips his head back and laughs, and I am momentarily mesmerized by the way his throat moves. “I don’t think Cass has ever recovered. You were pretty chill, though.”
“Well, a wet raisin doesn’t really hold a candle to the sight of calves being born. That being said, it took all the joy out of eating raisins.”
His left eyebrow arches high, pulling his lips up on one side. “I’m more surprised you ever found joy in eating raisins.”
A sudden flurry of activity distracts us both, and I realize that while we were discussing the great raisin extraction of yesteryear servers have placed bread and big bowls of salad on the table. Several other people have joined us as well, and I’m happy to discover that the woman sitting next to Gregory has pulled his attention away from me.
“Don’t judge me too harshly, but I love a banquet-style salad,” Foster says, holding the bowl out for me so I can serve myself.
“Why’s that?”
“They always have those little hot peppers.” I look down at my plate, and sure enough, a pepper is peeking out from below some shockingly pale iceberg lettuce.
“Do you want mine?” I spear it with a fork and hold it out to him. Instead of plucking it off and putting it on his plate he drags it off my fork with his teeth, pulls off the stem, and chews like he’s in heaven. How the fuck is that so seductive? “Good?”
“Judging by the lettuce, that will probably be the culinary highlight of the night,” he whispers while passing the bowl to his right.
“The food at this thing has never been spectacular.” I shrug and move the salad around my plate.
“Be careful with that one,” I hear Gregory say, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “The salad has chickpeas. Might be too exotic for our girl Sophie.”
Before I can say anything though, Foster’s hand gives my knee a squeeze. “Huh,” he says thoughtfully. “Ya know, I’ve never had a problem with making her food she likes. Hell, we had Korean the other night, and she had seconds. Then she thanked me for…” He stops, pretending to think. “What was it, like two hours?”
“Oh, at least,” I confirm. “But you’re forgetting the balcony, I think.” I watch Foster bite the inside of his cheeks, trying not to laugh.
A choking sound comes from across the table, and we look over to see Gregory dab the corners of his mouth. “I guess one is never too old to learn to like new things,” he says with a sneer.
“You’ve made that quite obvious,” Foster mumbles, earning a glare from my ex and a confused look from his date.
The exchange between them seems to have ended Gregory’s desire to engage further, and we spend the rest of the meal talking to the people on either side of us until the speeches. Gregory stands at the podium looking out across the ballroom before his eyes land on me. He looks at me the way he did when we first got together, when he wore a veil to hide the kind of person he really is, and I feel sick.
“I’m just going to run to the washroom,” I whisper to Foster.
He turns back to me looking concerned. “You alright?”
“Oh yeah, fine,” I lie before rising and walking briskly from the room.
In the washroom, I stand in front of the mirror trying to calm my mind. I hate the effect he still has over me. I thought I’d show up here and power through, and I think I’m pulling it off, on the outside at least. On the inside, it feels like bugs are crawling beneath my skin. Just as I feel like I can go back out and face him the door opens, and his date walks in. I don’t mean to stare at her, but once my eyes lock on her, it’s like I’m in a trance.
“Um, are you okay?” she asks, looking partly concerned but mostly terrified.
I bet everything with him is wonderful, right? He showers you with gifts and praise. I bet you’ve eaten at all the best restaurants in the city and you feel lucky to be on his arm. He’s probably jumped enthusiastically into your life, taking an interest in everything that means something to you.
I blink several times, slowly realizing not a word came out of my mouth and I’ve just been standing here staring with my face on fire.
“The left sink isn’t working,” I stammer before brushing by her and rushing back to the table, to Foster.
Gregory is still talking, and I hope for his girlfriend’s sake he didn’t notice her leave during his time in the spotlight.
“Good?” Foster asks when I sit down, concern etched on his handsome face.
“Um, I’m just a bit nervous,” I admit, forcing myself to take a sip of my lukewarm wine.
The rest of Gregory’s speech is a blur of soft touches from Foster, as if he’s reminding me he’s there. When my name is called from the stage, I desperately wish I could grab his hand and bring him with me. I don’t want to be up there with Gregory. I don’t want to be anywhere near him ever again.
I rise slowly and look up to find Foster standing as well. He pulls me gently into his body and drops his head to whisper in my ear. “You’ve got this. You’ve earned it, sunshine.”
He gives my hand a quick squeeze and I turn to the stage with my head held high.
“I knew this program was a good idea, and I can recall many nights of talking Soph into it. So in a way you have me to thank as well. Sadly, there is only one plaque, and my walls are pretty full as it is.” I keep the smile plastered on, but inside every muscle tenses as I cringe at his narcissistic diatribe. The crowd laughs, of course; they always do. He’s the golden boy, the favorite son. They clap and cheer and throw funding at him, and his ego grows and grows.
On the stage, Gregory hands me the plaque with one hand but pulls me against him with the other. “Maybe you can thank me for this in my office later, baby,” he whispers. “Like old times.” The fake smile falters for the briefest moment, but he’s made sure I’m the one on the outside, I’m the one everyone can see, so I force it back into place.
When he backs away and lets me step to the podium, I thank my colleagues who helped make the program possible. I keep my eyes on Foster the whole time, loving the way his hard gaze remains squarely on Gregory as if he heard what he had said. Foster is so often smiling that his expression halts me mid-sentence. As if me stopping snaps him out of it, he turns his eyes to me and a soft smile appears. I finish my little speech, leaving Gregory out of it entirely and then brush off his attempts of guiding me off the stage with as much grace as I can muster.
Back at the table, Foster stands as I approach and pulls me in for a hug before I can sit down.
“What did he say to you?” he asks quietly, his voice so deep I can barely hear him.
“Nothing,” I say, leaning back and smiling at him. “Nothing important anyway.”
He looks like he’s going to push me, but he just gives a single nod and lets me sit down without any more discussion.
When the dance floor opens, Foster pulls me to him and we sway slowly together. “Remember the senior dance in elementary school?” he asks, his mouth right beside my ear.
“The one where you danced with a group of us because the other boys pretended they wanted to, only to then ignore us for the whole night?”
He pulls back, looking confused. “There was a whole group?”
“Yeah, and you danced with each of us. You made a big show of it too. Bowed when you offered me your hand.” I laugh, remembering the flourish of it and the anxious anticipation of laying my hand in his. I’d been jealous of the other girls he’d offered his hand to until it was my turn.
“I hope my skills have improved since then.”
“Definitely,” I sigh, laying my head on his chest. His cheek comes to rest on the top of my head, and I catch a thumbs-up and okay signal from a couple of my former colleagues at the university.
I see Gregory look at me a couple times. See him chatting to Edwin and gesturing toward me and then the look on his face when Edwin says something with a knowing grin. I know he’s trying to get intel. Trying to find out who this man I turned up with is.
Foster’s arm tightens a little more, and I slide my hand down his back, stopping just above his ass, and a loud, somewhat nervous laugh bubbles out of me. Gregory wouldn’t recognize it; it was always forced with him.
“Thank you for going with me tonight,” I say, turning in my seat toward Foster when he pulls up in front of my house.
“I had fun, despite the hodenkobold, of course. Did you have a good time?”
I take in his hopeful expression and realize that while the night was tainted, I did actually have a pretty decent time. “Thanks to you. What time should I be ready on Sunday?”
“I’ll pick you up at 11:30 if that’s alright?”
“Should I be prepared for hijinks and tomfoolery?”
“Absolutely.” He flashes me a mischievous grin.
“Excellent,” I say, stepping from the car. “I love me some tomfoolery.”
I’ve been nervous about our little arrangement, but after how easy being with him tonight was, I’m already very much looking forward to Sunday. Even if it confuses my heart more.