“I’ll have what he’s having,” I said, gesturing to Daniel’s glass.
“You got it,” she said, adding, “Another? No lime this time?” to Daniel. He nodded, murmuring thanks.
“So how’s school going?” I asked, settling onto my stool and trying to clear my mind so I could focus on our conversation. I clasped my hands together, wishing I already had a drink to hold.
“Pretty good,” Daniel said, shaking his now-empty glass a little, making the ice rattle against its edges. “It’s not entirely different from law actually, which has made the transition easier.”
“What exactly are you studying? You said it was grad school and something to do with education?”
“Social justice education,” he replied. “I’m hoping to get my doctorate. Teach, eventually.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said. “That’s great. Sounds perfect for you.” I had no idea why I said that last part. I had never known Daniel to be interested in teaching in any way, and a doctorate in social justice education didn’t line up with the Daniel I knew—who had been following in his dad’s footsteps as a personal injury attorney.
Which also forced me to admit the truth: I didn’t know this version of Daniel. I also had to wonder how much influence Margot had had on his decision to leave law and become an educator, which lined up nicely with her own professional ambitions. I thought about asking what Margot was doing—not tonight, but in general—but also didn’t want to bring her name up. I wanted to drink and pretend for a while.
Our drinks arrived, and Daniel cocked an eyebrow and pointed at the lime wedge on the rim of my glass.
“What?” I asked, glancing between him and my drink.
He chuckled, then shook his head. “I thought I had more power than that.”
Confused, I frowned. Felt the uncomfortable prickle of understanding that my memory had failed me again. Daniel could see I was getting upset, and quickly changed tact.
“Hey, sorry. I’m kidding around, Lucy. But...” he began, gesturing to my drink. “I was surprised to see you back on the lime.”
“‘Back on the lime’?”What in the hell was he talking about?
“You don’t remember.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did, and I felt instantly lit up inside. No longer upset, now I was curious.
“I don’t remember.” Then I laughed. “I can’t tell you how many times a day I have to say that.”
He turned to me quickly, exaggerated shock on his face. “I’m hurt.”
“Okay, so what’s the story with the limes?” I grinned and took a sip of the drink, the dark rum strong, the ginger beer sweet and spicy. “I hope it’s worth it.”
“Lucy Sparks,the limeis where it all began.”
27
It was hot, too many bodies crammed in the room, and the night was only getting started. Lucy pulled her black silk top away from her skin where it clung with sweat, and billowed it out from her body a couple times. Scanning the crowd from where she stood by the outdoor bar, she couldn’t find Jenny, who had said she’d be right back, almost fifteen minutes ago. The music reverberated in Lucy’s chest as she swirled the slim red straw in her Dark and Stormy, the ice nearly melted with the heat of the room and her hand holding the glass. Stabbing the lime floating lazily in her drink, she brought it to her mouth and sucked out the juice and some of the pulp.
The Madison Avenue Pub was a local watering hole near the university—three old mansions that had been combined and converted into a bar and English-style pub where students drank too much and made memories they’d reminisce about for years to come. It was a maze of rooms connected by grungy, maroon-carpet-covered staircases, with a huge wooden deck off the back that was usually teeming with students on weekends.
Tonight Jenny and Lucy were meeting up with some other friends, and Lucy had heard Evan McAllister—a guy she was interested in but didn’t know well yet—was also coming. Evan and Lucy had flirted at another bar night similar to this one and had run into each other a few times on campus. They were also in the same psychology class, though there were four hundred people in the class, but Evan always waved and smiled when he saw her. There was chemistry between them for sure—at least enough for a few nights of fun, and at twenty-one, Lucy was all about fun.
“That’s a mistake,” someone said, and Lucy looked up from her glass to the guy standing in front of her. Clearly intoxicated—bleary-eyed, body swaying slightly, damp hair stuck to his forehead—but with a nice smile, dimples on either side piercing his cheeks. Lucy wasn’t short at five foot six, but this guy had only a couple inches on her. He also seemed a few years older, maybe a graduate student.
“Sorry?” Lucy replied, unsure if he was actually talking to her or not.
“Eating the lime. They never wash the fruit before it goes in the drinks,” he said, shouting to be heard over the cacophony of voices and music. He pointed over her shoulder at one of the bartenders preparing a row of cocktails. “See?” he said. “He’s grabbing those slices with his bare hands. And who knows where those hands have been.” He raised his eyebrows, swayed a little more and held up his own hands while somehow managing to keep a grip on his beer bottle.
“Thanks for the tip.” Lucy set the lime peel on the bar’s countertop and grimaced as she watched the bartender wipe his sweating brow with the back of his hand before slinging fruit slices into drinks.
The guy gave a sloppy wave, as if to say,Happy to help.
Then he squinted at her, leaned in enough she instinctually leaned back, if for no other reason because of the waft of alcohol following his breath. “Have we met before?”
Lucy had to laugh. “Has that line ever worked for you?” She sipped from her watered-down drink, missing the lime.
