She hums like she doesn’t believe me, but the corners of her mouth give her away before asking, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it seems to me that you learned along the way that not everyone who says the right things actually means them. And that’s not a bad lesson, even if it came the hard way.”
Her hands pause, fingers resting against the cotton shirt she’s holding. Then her eyes find mine, and there’s a glossy look in them, one that holds secrets I’m starting to realize she’s not ready to share. I know that feeling, carrying that feeling of being less; I’ve been there with my work. It’s a tough pit to climb out of, and I’m not totally sure I have yet, but being here with her, wondering if she feels a similar way I do, makes me feel less alone. “You got all that from me describing my date?”
“I literally spend my life looking at people through a lens,” I say, keeping my attention on her. “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading faces.”
Her lips part, mouth opening to respond, but a buzzing sound alerts both of us when I realize it was her phone, and that moment is gone. Those blue eyes disconnect from mine.
“Daphne says they’re doing a scrapbook club at her house. Can we make it?”
The ‘we’ part doesn’t escape me. “When is it?”
“Next Friday night.”
“I’m good, can you make it?” I ask.
She nods while typing. “I can’t wait to have my scrapbook cherry popped.”
She’s already back to smiling, full of energy, and I can’t tell if that’s who she really is or just how she keeps the world from asking questions. Too bad for her, I’ve got a curious mind.
Chapter ten
Liv
“Areyoulistening?Didyou get all that?” The guy whose name I’ve not forgotten, unlike him, who has clearly not taken the time to remember my name at all tonight—leans forward with that practiced grin people wear when they think charm makes up for dull conversation.
I stir my drink, watching the lemon slice spin. “Mm-hm,” I hum, because technically Iamlistening. I just don’t care. I think I’ve proved to myself I can identify red flags if nothing else tonight.
Brad’s talking about crypto, then he moved on to CrossFit, and now he’s droning on about something else beginning withCand ending with me wanting to fake a phone call, and not once has he remembered my name.
My gaze drifts to the window, where the streetlights blur against the glass. I try to picture feeling something, anything, but the longer I sit here, the more it feels like I’m watching someone else’s life play out.
He laughs at something he’s said, and that gets my attention again. I smile automatically. Now actively not listening because I’m not sure he really needs me to listen; he just wants to think I’m impressed by all the things he’s saying.
And that’s when it hits me, like it always does halfway through these kinds of nights: I’m not lonely because I’m alone. I’m lonely because I’m here chasing something I don’t believe in.
An epic wave ofwhat the fuck are you doingwashes over me, and I physically have to stop myself from just standing and walking out. I’m not having fun. I had more fun with Jay today doing laundry, and I hate laundry.
He waves for another drink, oblivious to the fact that mine’s still half full. “You’ll love this place once you’ve been a few times,” he says, leaning back like he owns the room. “I’m kind of a regular here.”
I bite back the urge to sayof course you are.Regulars love to be adored by the staff, and judging by how many times he’s checked out the waitress’s ass, I’d say he’s already looking past me anyway.
The server drops off his second light beer while he’s busy bragging about his gym routine, again, or his investments, or maybe his house. I’ve lost track. I check the time on my phone. Fifty-two minutes. Damn, it feels like hours.
He asks another question that I don’t quite catch. I nod anyway and sip the overly sweet cocktail he took the liberty of ordering for me. Another X in his column.
My brain starts cataloguing escape routes. Bathroom? Too obvious. Fake emergency? Tempting. Text Daphne? Always reliable, but she has Rosie, and I don’t want to risk waking her. My other option is… Jay, because he feels like the safest bet, and that alone should scare me.
His name is on my phone before I can stop myself, and I’m texting him under the table as my date orders food for me, not asecond thought to what I want or if I have any allergies. What an ass.
Liv
I need you to call me with an emergency asap.
Thankfully, he doesn’t keep me waiting.
Jay
