“One night is enough to start something,” he said, like the idea had already taken hold.
I held his gaze. I wasn’t flustered. I wasn’t flattered. But I was paying attention. I noticed that he didn’t look away.
“I don’t give my number to people I don’t know,” I said. I stepped back, not in retreat, just adjusting the space between us. “Why don’t we leave it to fate,” I added, my tone light but deliberate. “If we’re supposed to cross paths again, we will.” I watched him then, curious to see whether he would push or if he would understand the boundary for what it was.
“Blair,” Cherry called from the front of the house. “The Uber’s here.”
I glanced toward the sound, then back at him. “If fate decides it,” I said, “we’ll meet again. If not, we won’t.”
He shook his head, smiling like he’d already accepted the outcome. “We won’t just meet again,” he said. “We’ll collide. You know it. I know it. So I’ll see you there when we do.”
I turned for the door, not looking back. But I felt the echo of his hand on my dress long after I left the hallway.
It took three times of asking Cherry if she wanted to see a doctor before she finally snapped.
“For the last time, Blair, I am not going to the fucking hospital, and if you ask me again, I will personally instruct the driver to pull over and leave your ass stranded in this…” Cherry trailed off, glancing out the window at the lavish houses lining the neighborhood Austin lived in. “Fancy fucking neighborhood. I mean, where even are we? I refuse to believe this is the same city we live in.”
I squinted at her as she spoke, the chaos of her words both surprising and oddly comforting. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I feel fine,” she shrugged, though I knew she was lying at least a little. Her head was pressed against the glass, her eyes heavy, like her eyelashes were made of iron.
“It wouldn’t hurt to get checked out,” I argued. “We don’t even know what that jerk put in your drink.”
“You know as well as I do that if we went to the hospital, it would turn into a game of twenty questions,” Cherry said. “Starting with,what are your parents’ phone numbers,and ending with,why were you drinking underage in the first place?” She raised her eyebrows at me, daring me to argue.
“You don’t know that,” I said, lying through my teeth.
“I’m changing the subject,” Cherry announced, tossing her long, vibrant hair over her shoulder. “You, Miss Blair, my very best friend, have some explaining to do.”
“What?” I blinked at her. “About what?”
“Oh, give me a break, B,” she said, pulling a face that didn’t quite work on her, though I wasn’t about to tell her that. “You and Mr. Rich. The vibes were insanity.”
I fought to keep my expression neutral, even as a giggle threatened to escape. “And you picked up on these vibes while you were unconscious the entire night?”
Her hand shot out instantly, smacking my arm. “That’s why I’m asking you to fill in the blanks. I need details.”
“What details?” I played dumb. “There are no details.”
“No?” She gave me a patronizing look. “A guy has a nickname for you, begs for your number, and you’re telling me you didn’t even have a conversation?”
“How the hell did you even hear that?” I muttered, shaking my head. She had been on the other side of the room when that happened.
“It doesn’t matter how I heard it,” Cherry smirked, already confident she was going to win. “Spill.”
I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes as I stalled. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to tell her every detail of my conversation with Austin. She was my best friend. She knew everything about my life. Maybe it was because this usually went the other way around. Cherry was the one with the boy stories. The one with flirtation to dissect and moments to analyze. She treated boys like a revolving door, switching them out when she got bored.
“Tell me or I’m going to start crying,” she added, the devilish glint in her eye telling me she might actually mean it.
“Oh my god,” I laughed. “Fine.” Mostly to spare the poor Uber driver from Cherry’s theatrics. “It was… fine. Austin’s fine.”
“Yeah, I know he is,” Cherry cut in, her left eye performing an exaggerated wink.
“We talked about what happened,” I continued, ignoring her. “He asked me why I wasn’t upset that the drink was supposed to be for me, and I told him that fate knew what she was doing.”
“Oh my god,” Cherry interrupted again, her eyes widening. “You didn’t go into your wholehippy-dippy-fate-speech. Tell me you didn’t.”
“It’s nothippy-dippyanything,” I shot back, even though I couldn’t stop smiling. Cherry and I had this argument at leastonce a month. She thought I was crazy for believing in fate, for believing life unfolded exactly the way it was meant to. I thought she was crazy for not believing it.
