Easton
Tap, tap, tap.
A few feet to my left, my mom’s fake nails rap against the wine glass in her hand.
Tap, tap, tap.
She laughs at something Ken and Barbie say, and my father’s arm around her waist stiffens further.
Tap, tap, tap.
These anniversary parties grow more and more pretentious every year. At least they serve as a cold reminder of why I’ve chosen a different future.
“I’m sure a bright guy like you can see where I’m coming from, right?”
As I vaguely listen to the suit in front of me, I nod and take a sip of water. He continues to spew whatever bullshit he thinks will impress me—or rather, my father. Joke’s on him. Scoring points with me will only make my father like him less.
“I used to know the guy, so, of course, it had to be some kind of ploy ...”
Since the start of this charade thirty minutes ago, my focus has been on one thing. The living room staircase Eva hasn’t come down yet.
“And he strolls in, looking all high and mighty—you know, like he’s the king of the place ...”
She’s been avoiding me since Marco’s party two nights ago. Worse, it’s like none of it ever happened. Like she didn’t say the things she did. Touch me like she did.Lickme like she did.
“So, anyway, we decide to put on a show, see how much of a hardass he really is ...”
A minute later, I see her. I swallow hard, shove my free hand in the pocket of my grey slacks. She’s all legs and curves in a skin-tight black dress, with a modest jacket draped over her shoulders. Loose, dark curls hang past her waist, and her lips ... red as fucking sin. Head held high, she descends with one hand gliding down the railing. Halfway down, an ankle tilts in one of her high heels, and she barely catches herself before she trips. She glances around to see if anyone is watching, and apparently satisfied she’s gone mostly unnoticed, she straightens her shoulders and continues gracefully down the steps.
My lips twitch, and I take a long swig from my cup.
“So, all along, I was right, and the dumbstruck bastard could only stare—”
Eyes on Eva, I pat the suit’s shoulder twice. “Good talk.”
Walking away, I flick my gaze over my shoulder to where my parents are ass-kissing a long-time client. They’re buried in the crowd of Kens and Barbies, clearly occupied, but my mother’s warning still grips me with paranoia. Not enough to change my destination though.
I don’t have to talk to her. I just have to see her.
My stare narrows, pace slowing, when someone reaches her first. He’s young and ostentatious, dressed in a white pinstripe suit. One of my dad’s interns, probably, and he must be as big of a tool as he looks. When he says something to Eva, she rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed.
The idiot takes her rebuff as a sign to touch her waist, lean close, and whisper something into her ear. Eva shoves his hand off, but it doesn’t deter him.
My grip tightens around the glass in my hand. I scan the room to make sure my parents are still engrossed in conversation. When I see they are, I somehow manage calm and controlled steps on my way to Eva.
I stop beside her. A warning weighs on my tongue, but I keep it locked behind clenched teeth and shoot the tool a glare.
He scans me up and down before glancing at Eva. “Are you here with him or something?”
A waiter walks by, and Eva snags a glass of sparkling water. She brings it to her lips. “You could say that.”
He gives me a skeptical look at Eva’s noncommittal answer. “Doesn’t sound serious—”
“Get lost,” I growl.
Taking the hint, he puts his hands up in surrender and disappears into the crowd.
“I had it under control,” Eva says coolly.
