“Good call. Don’t say anything, just sit in the shadows and stare at her.”
I swing my face toward Adam. “And what would you have me do? She won’t want to talk to me. She hates my guts.”
I return my attention to the stage, where the first notes of “Girl on Fire” play. To my shock, Kendall takes the stage. She clutches the microphone with an easy confidence, smiling at her friends and the rest of the crowd. She still hasn’t seen me, apparently.
She doesn’t look nervous at all. She winks at someone in the crowd, shimmying her hips a little, and blood rushes from my head in a dizzying wave. My God.
She can’t stand me. Frankly, I don’t like her either. But I’ve never found someone so attractive in my whole life.
Her mouth opens, and my jaw drops. She has rich, sultry vocals, a beautiful alto if I remember choir sections correctly, and I straighten in my seat.
“Jesus,” Adam says. “She can sing.”
“Yeah.” I’m unable to look away. She sways with the beat and closes her eyes when her voice crescendos. Is this girl good at everything?
Something about her singing scratches at my subconscious. Where have I heard it before? Is she some secret starlet or something? Has she been on the radio? No, that’s stupid. Still, I cock my head, trying to place the sound.
She belts out the whole song, then takes a bow at the end of her performance, giggling in front of the drunken crowd, who all cheer for her. Her friends high-five her when she returns to their table. Her smile widens. How can she do that? How can she be so awful to me when she’s so joyous with everyone else? Her hatred is a blemish on my otherwise mundane life. No one has disliked me this way for a long time.
I lean toward Adam, whose friends look like they might be gearing up for some performance of their own. “I think I’m going to go,” I say.
Adam starts to protest, but I hold up my hand. “I know, I’m boring,” I say.
The truth is, I can hardly stand to watch Kendall anymore. I say goodbye to Adam and his friends, then I move toward the exit. I spare one last glance at Kendall, though, and unfortunately, she looks toward me at the same moment. Her eyes widen.
“Dammit,” I mutter.
We both freeze, and then I sigh and move toward her. I at least have to say hello. I squeeze by a few tables. Someone sloshes beer on me, and I curse.
Kendall, for her part, purses her lips before stretching them into a forced smile. It looks painful. Good grief, what is her fucking problem?
“Sorry,” I say, unsure what I might be apologizing for. I continue as she lifts her eyebrows. “My roommate dragged me here.” I gesture behind me.
She nods, then perhaps realizing she should be polite, points to her friends in turn. “That’s Joan,” she says, indicating the tall blonde, “and that’s Gwen. Girls, this is Grant.” Sheemphasizes my name with enough malevolence that my own eyes widen.
Gwen, the woman with the blue in her hair, glares. The venom in her gaze could burn me.
All right. I’ve had it now. When she said it was personal, I chalked up her distaste for me to something offhand I said or did the first time we met, but whatever it was, it must have been absolutely awful. Her friends look like they hate me too. To be the object of such unmitigated ire bewilders me. What the fuck have I done? And why won’t she tell me? Has she lied to her friends about me? Created some weird fantasy where I’ve wronged her?
“Nice to meet you.” I offer my own tight smile. I look at Kendall again. “You have a beautiful voice.”
Her smile falters. “Thank you.”
“Okay.” I incline my head toward the door. “I was just heading out.”
I turn and walk away, my steps gaining speed as I near the exit. I’m done talking to that awful woman. I mean, sure, she’s beautiful and talented and smart. It’s too bad she’s unreasonable.
Someone tugs on my arm. I turn around, expecting Adam, but my mouth drops open at the sight of Kendall standing before me. She speaks to me over the low warble of a man singing “Wonderwall.”
“I know this doesn’t make any sense to you,” she says. “Me being such a bitch.”
My heart moves in my chest, a thumping rhythm that announces my discomfort. “I don’t understand why you hate me, no.”
She chews on her lip. My eyes fall there, to where she’s painted on some bright pink lipstick. For a quick flash, I imagine smudging it with my own mouth. I shake my head.
“You also don’t mince words,” I say. “At least from what I’ve seen. And you still won’t tell me what I’ve done.”
“Maybe you should think a little harder.” She fiddles with the hem of her dress, and my gaze flicks down.
