I finally spare her a glance, watching as she teases a plump cherry between her teeth.
To my detriment, all I can think about is the way Annie braided cherry stems into perfect little bows with only her tongue.
“You’re too good-looking to look so sad,” Lemon-slash-Jaclyn continues, inciting conversation.
My face sours. It’s an odd thing to say, but it’s nothing I haven’t heard over the last few years. “I wasn’t aware those two attributes were correlated,” I reply.
The cherry disappears inside her mouth. “Good-looking people have a dutyto uphold.”
“Elaborate.”
“It’s nothing concrete, of course, but I feel like it’s the tradeoff for being gifted with physical perfection. You have a responsibility to make the less fortunate around you feel beautiful too.”
“Perfection,” I echo.
I’m not sure why I’m humoring her, but the guys are huddled at the opposite end of the bar chugging Jägerbombs, Alex is grinding on Annie amid a mass of people, and I’m not sure what else to do but guzzle whiskey until I black out.
“Did I say that?” Another cherry finds its way to her mouth, lingering between her lips for a beat before sliding inside. “Tell me what you do for a living.”
The migraine grows teeth, chewing through my skull. “I’m a woodworker. Also play in a band.”
Her eyes gleam. “You’re a musician?”
“We’re just starting out. We have a gig in two months at The Soundproof.”
“Where’s that?”
“New York.”
Pillowy pink lips curve up with a smile. “Wow, that’s big-time stuff. What’s the date?” She turns to fully face me. “I’ll come see you.”
My gaze flicks over Jaclyn’s head, catching with Annie’s. Her movements slow, her eyes meeting mine across the dance floor. She glances at the blond, then back at me. Notable tension creeps across her face, as if she doesn’t like what she sees.
That’s fucked too. Almost as much as the empty feeling churning in my gut while this pretty girl flirts with me.
Swallowing half my whiskey, I exhale a long breath. “October fourteenth.”
“On my calendar.” She pulls out her phone and pops in the date.
I’m all out of conversation.
Seconds slug by as I finish my drink and toss the glass on the counter, avoiding Jaclyn’s throat clears and jittery limbs as she thinks of new ways to earn my attention.
But my attention is earned when Annie pushes her way between me and Orange. My body stiffens, skin starts to sweat. It’s instinct. A physical reactionto her arm brushing mine.
“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ditch you on your birthday.” Annie orders a fruity cocktail and sends me a penitent smile. Then her voice dips to a hush. “I’m also here to save you.”
I tell the bartender to put her drink on my tab. “Save me?”
“Yep. You looked uncomfortable.” A sly look is sent to Jaclyn, who is now enmeshed in conversation with a woman on her right. “I know it’s hard putting yourself out there. The dating scene is vicious, according to Kenna.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Not everyone rescues injured goldfinches and names them Haiku. Some people have body parts in their fridge named after their favorite serial killers.”
Straightaway, my anxiety shakes loose and a smile teases. “You think Jaclyn’s a closet sociopath?”
“Jaclyn, huh?” A pink cocktail with extra cherries and a coral umbrella is placed in front of her. She sips from the straw, her red-wine nails tapping the glass. “I mean, probably not. She looks like the type of person who doesn’t even let her ground beef go a day past the expiration date.”
