As we made our way through the restaurant, Lucy drew us closer and lowered her voice. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the others in case they try to stalk me at work,” she said, “but David made an appointment for a consultation with me next week.”
“Really?” I asked, the question flying out. David was seeping into every part of my life, and I didn’t know if I was more thrilled or worried by it. Even though nothing had happened between us, our attraction felt too big to hide. Especially if he was going to be spending more time around my friends.
“You luckybitch,” Gretchen said. “You’ll get to see him naked.”
Lucy turned a shade of red I’d never seen on a person. “Being a stylist isn’t like that, Gretchen.God.”
I’d just entered the bathroom stall when my phone vibrated with a text from an unknown number.
Unknownonly because I hadn’t saved it in my phone earlier. Because keeping the number felt like a transgression in itself.
Was it also a sin that I recognized it anyway?
That I couldn’t forget it?
That my heart leaped knowing the text was from David?
* * *
Back in the dining area, our waitress had littered the table with appetizers that looked as good as they smelled. I hid my phone in my lap and read David Dylan’s text message a third time.
David:Why the cold shoulder?
I needed to delete it. Deletehim. But I couldn’t deny my flicker of excitement over the fact that not only was he ignoring his date to text me, but he’d also noticedmeignoring him—and had picked up on my discomfort when even my girlfriends hadn’t. I sent my reply.
Me:I’m not sure what you mean.
“More wine, Liv?” Bethany asked, causing me to jump.
“Oh. Yes. Thanks,” I said just as my phone vibrated.
David:Don’t be coy. How are you getting home?
Me:Why?
Gretchen was speaking, but I didn’t need to listen. I’d already heard her story about becoming an accidental extra in Chris Hemsworth’s latest film. I clutched the phone until David’s response came through.
David:You’ve been drinking.
Me:So?
David:I will come over there & ask in front of everyone if you don’t tell me. How’re you getting home?
Me:Thought I’d hitch a ride with legs over there.
David:Very cute. I’m coming over.
Horrified at the possibility that he’d out us to my friends, I scurried to type a response, taking only a second to shoot a harried glance in his direction.
Me:Lucy and I are getting a cab. Why does it matter?
David:You know it does.
Some part of him cared. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t deny it. I took another, larger sip and inhaled before answering.
Me:You said earlier that you called me for a reason.
David:And you hung up on me, right before you told me not to call again . . .
