We are all so preoccupied, we seem to miss the couple who just made their way into the private dining room. It isn’t untilan expertly coiffed brunette clears her throat across from Grant that I look over. Ben’s still saying something to Grant across me, his arm slung around the back of my chair. The familiarity seems to be jarring to the girl openly gaping at us. My stomach sinks, like maybe I did something wrong, although I can’t fathom what.
But then I see the man beside her. I notice his eyes first, green, like money. So green, I want to paint them. His jaw is hard, but it’s not flexed; it’s like someone hammered it right out of stone. Broad shoulders, his physique sitting somewhere between Ben and Grant’s and I instantly know who it is. Gen’s beautiful face flashes in my mind as I clock the similarities between the man before me and his brother. Ben’s mouth, Ben’s height, Ben’s eyebrows, but somehow more bold, more severe.
Ben’s arm slides off my chair, so naturally that from a distance, you’d never guess at the tension in the air. I don’t miss the way his eyes lock with the woman standing next to his brother.
“Hey, Will.” Ben’s smile is tight as he adds: “Olivia.” He nods and I can tell there’s something happening here. Something I can’t put my finger on but nevertheless feel the need to extinguish.
“Hi,” I say, letting my southern twang move to the forefront of my mouth, knowing it usually makes people feel a bit more at ease.
Olivia’s face remains stoic, her eyes sliding to me as if just noticing I exist. She looks like a young Brooke Shields, her dark brows framing her eyes in a way that takes her from pretty to stunning. It’s not hard to tell what kind of girl she is, or istryingto be, I should say. The straight line of her mouth makes her weariness obvious to me, and the harsh indifference of her gaze makes it clear she wants to stay at armslength.
“I’m Sloane.” I reach out my hand, but she doesn’t take it; to recover, I act like I’m going for her sweater, feeling the soft fabric as I run it between my fingertips. Her eyes widen at the contact. “Where did you get that sweater? I absolutelylove!”
She pulls back a little and I fall back into my chair, trying not to laugh at the sheer terror flashing through Olivia’s eyes.
“Uh…Veronica Beard, over on Newbury.”
I watch as her eyes glance over at Ben, just for a second, but I see it. Thereissomething there.
Interesting.
I nudge Grant with my elbow, grabbing his arm as it falls off the table.
“Remind me to stop at Veronica Beard when we go to Newbury tomorrow. I have to have that sweater. Do they have it in anything less…dreary?” I watch the girl stiffen and Grant rolls his eyes, clearly seeing that I’m fucking with her a little bit, but I can’t help it. Her discomfort is palpable and I’m drinking it up.
“I see you’ve met my sister…” Grant chimes in and I watch the girl put two and two together, realizing who I am and why I’m here. Her shoulders unhinge slightly as she relaxes in her chair. Curiosity claws its way up my spine.
“Sorry, I was just so distracted by how soft your sweater looks!” I try to genuinely smile at the girl but her gaze has changed from guarded to sad.
“I’m glad someone likes it. This one thought it was just fine.” Her head tilts toward Will who barely looks her way at the mention. All her previous hardness softens slightly and it’s clear that all of that was an act, a way to protect herself. Again, tension fills the air, Ben’s stillness a signal that he’s somehow involved in whatever is going on. I glance at Grant, his head down as he spreads butter onto his bread. Pussy.
I mock a gasp, looking between Will and his exceptionallygorgeous girlfriend and I catch a quick spark of amusement in her gaze. Like she’s letting me in on something and she doesn’t do that often. Right then, I decide I like her.
Will can’t even spare a glance. He’s slouched back in his chair, his menu leaning on his lap against the table as his long arm dangles on the back of Olivia’s chair. A cocktail waitress wearing a skirt almost as short as mine saunters over, holding what appears to be a whiskey on the rocks. She leans beside him, her cleavage on full display as she sets down his glass.
“Your usual,” she says, giving him a coy smile which he returns, overtly flirtatious for someone seated directly beside his girlfriend. He turns his snaky, green eyes toward me, and any trace of attractiveness I once saw is washed away by the red now painting Olivia’s cheeks.
“I said you look totally fine—to be clear.” He shrugs at me disinterested before returning to his menu. “And yeah, I mean it’s nothing to write home about. Not worth being late over.” His tone is bored and makes me want to grab my fork, reach over, and stab him with it as his eyes flick over the menu. Ben seems to match the violence that has entered my mood, his whole arm flexed near his stake knife.
“You look great Olivia.” Ben’s deep voice has gravity to it and I watch Olivia’s blush deepen. “You were right when you saw it on the rack—that color suits you.”
Both Grant and I freeze, Ben’s words hanging heavy over the table. Any suspicion that something was going on with the three of them was confirmed with the petty way the words left Ben’s mouth. They catch Will’s attention, his eyes flicking up venomously.
“What does he meanyou were right?” The words come out like a hiss fully directed at Olivia. I watch her lock up, her posture prim, her expression restrained. The hypocrisy is clear to everyone at the table, as just seconds ago he was fullychecking out our waitress. Still, I find it hard to believe that somethingisgoing on with Ben and Olivia. Even if Will is the absolute worst, which I suspect he is, that’s still his brother. Olivia seems far too high strung to be a cheater. Surely, Ben wouldn’t come back to campus after years away only to steal his captain spotandhis girlfriend?
She mumbles some response quietly, so myself and the others can’t hear. I’m trying my best to appear like I’m not eavesdropping when my attention pulls to further down the room.
“Finally!” One of the guys shouts from the other side of the dining room. The guys jeer and shout as a red head in sky high heels that she definitely hasn’t practiced walking in traipses into the room. She smiles sheepishly, like she wasn’t expecting this reaction, as she glances back, tugging on her date’s hand.
“Alright man, get your ass in here,” Josiah calls. My curiosity is piqued and I finally realize exactly who’s been missing this evening just as he walks through the doorway, slipping his phone in his pocket on a sigh, before a cocky smile blooms across his beautiful face.
Of course.
Andrew’s hand casually wraps around the red head’s waist and my mind drifts back to our brief dance at the warehouse party, remembering the feel of his hands on me. Seeing his hand on someone else is a blowback it shouldn’t be. He’s exactly who he’s been since day one, but my body can’t seem to get in line. I itch with irritation as my heart rate increases.
The girl actually preens, like she’s just caught the biggest fish in the pond. And unfortunately, standing there in his blue knit sweater, his hair expertly tucked under a backwards baseball hat, I find that I wouldn’t mind going fishing myself.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope,I tell myself, mindlessly clutching a roll to slather butter on.
