“Do I strike you as someone who’d get satisfaction from trolling you on social media?”
Her eyes slowly roll over me, taking their time, face unchanging so I have no idea if she likes what she sees. “You’ve got the pallor for it, certainly.”
“Being sun safe isn’t directly correlated with being a cyber stalker.”
“You’re the expert.” Her eyes narrow as she sips from her drink, leaving a line of foam on her upper lip.
For a moment, I can’t speak, watching as her tongue licks her lip clean. The twinge of lust that was missing from my conversation with the blonde by the pool is suddenly present and accounted for. “Where’s your friend?”
She takes another gulp from her cup before answering. “Why? You into redheads now?”
“Dee’s not my type. I’m just not used to seeing you on your own. I thought you girls hunted in packs.”
“I’ve retired from the hunt.”
“Right.” In payback for her earlier inspection, my eyes now slowly trawl her from bow to stern. “This is what you wear when you’re not hunting?”
She relaxes her head against the wall, tilting it to the side to meet my gaze. “In case you didn’t know yet, girls don’t dress to attract men. They dress to live up to the impossible standards we set each other.”
“That a fact?”
“Mm-hm.”
I wonder if she’s getting any beverage from her cup at all as another layer of foam appears on her lip. Whoever tapped the keg needs a few lessons.
“Why?” she asks as I continue to stare at her. “What do men dress for?”
“To comply with public decency laws.”
“Oh, ha-ha.”
Even the bite of her sarcasm seems delightful to me tonight. If I’d consumed any alcohol at all, I’d put the blame on it, but the can in my hand is still full to the brim. It offers no excuse for when my mouth blurts, “Why don’t you like me?”
She drains the last of her cup, tipping it upright to let the foam drip into her mouth, then staring into the base with an annoyed frown. “You’re the one who doesn’t like me, remember?” Her voice pitches half an octave higher. “My friend’s too good to be with someone like you.”
I scroll through our shared memory file, coming up with the reference almost straight away. “I was in a bad mood.”
“Seems to be a common occurrence.”
“You can talk.”
“Yeah. But I’ve got genuine grievances with life. What’re your problems? Is it a drag when you’ve slept with every cute girl within radius so you either need to start repeating or get used to uggos?”
The flare of jealousy behind her words delights me. If that is the green-eyed monster, lurking. With Em, it could just as easily be a general distaste for everything.
“I’m getting used to uggos. Why’d you think I’ve started hanging out with you?”
“Because you’re sick of sex and just want to have a halfway decent conversation?”
It strikes so close to the heart of the truth that I glance away. Not that I’m sick of sex at this precise moment. Not when she’s sitting so close.
“Call this a conversation?” I shake my head. “If this passes, you’ve spent too long in monosyllabic company.”
“No need to talk ill of Zach,” she lobs back with such perfect timing, she should give stand-up a try.
I grin with pleasure; glad I snuck up here and found her. The party suddenly seems worthwhile.
“You drinking that or just keeping it warm?”
