“It’s not a FaceTime conversation.”
He serves up the save I was hoping for. “Can I borrow you? I can’t find the immersion blender.”
Fuck if I know where it is, either, but I’m happy to go look for it with him. “Can I get you guys another drink?” I ask Calyx and Sam.
“We’re pacing ourselves until we see what witch’s brew Bailey shows up with,” Calyx says.
“Ah. Nice point. Well, help yourself to whatever you’d like.”
Deacon drags me away, telling me as we walk to the kitchen not to worry about the blender thing.
The house is slowly filling with the same crowd I met at the first party. All the finance bros and the pretty troublemakers Rachel and Priya, who brought their puppy, too.
I want to hate them for it, but I get it. I can’t leave Baz alone for a second. I’ve become the CEO who brings his dog to work with him, and now everyone at Polytech seems to think that’s okay to do, but I will say most of my employee’s dogs have way better manners than mine.
Evan is in the kitchen, eating off a fruit kabob while Miguel explains to him the current “off” status with Nathan. He winks at me when he notices me checking him out. He’s wearing what I can only describe as booty shorts with a matching, tight zip-up hoodie. His ass looks fucking edible.
“Wanna make out in the pantry for a few minutes?” Deacon asks.
I’m about to say yes when the front door opens and Evan cocks his head at whoever it is.
I turn to find Bailey and Millie coming in together.
Bailey’s got her chin up and a haughty look on her face. The usual tote bag hangs off her arm, but instead of holding a large container of something diabolically alcoholic, Millie is carrying two large mason jars in her arms.
“Are you—” Evan starts.
Bailey fixes him with a glare that could stop a missile. “Do not.”
“Wearing makeup?” he asks.
I look closer, and, indeed, there’s a faint shimmer on Bailey’s eyelids. Neutral, but glittery nonetheless. And her lips—well, they’re not quite as pale as usual.
“Shut up,” she snaps at Evan.
“Isn’t she fabulous?” Millie gushes, skipping forward to place the pitchers on the island.
Bailey, with her head down, is pulling things from her tote bag and placing them next to the mason jars.
“Sheisfabulous,” Malcolm says, having risen from the sofa to take in the transformation.
Beaming, Millie slides an arm around Bailey’s waist.
Bailey shudders, groaning audibly. “We talked about this.”
“I’m sorry?” Malcolm says. “You talked about what? With Millie.”
“About how this is just a date and I shouldn’t read too much into it,” Millie says.
“Adate?” Evan asks, as shocked as the rest of the room.
Bailey aims her death glare at Millie. “The last one.”
Millie leans down and whispers something in Bailey’s ear, which, for the first time, is hidden by Bailey’s hair. It’s hanging long tonight, her tight, dark curls springy and glossy.
Bailey blushes, then says, “Anyway, this one’s spicy watermelon, and this one is lime with beer, and I would suggest caution—the beer ones go down pretty easy.”
“Holy shit,” Deacon says.
