Alex still doesn’t know the truth about Chase. He thinks he’s Tag’s friend.
The lie gnaws at me, heating my skin.
I melt into him as his arm wraps around me, and he plays with the shoulder tie of my dress. “Um, he’s great. He and Kenna really hit it off.” I’m not sure if that part is a lie or not, but I guess we’ll find out.
Kenna primps her hair in a kitschy mirror off the entrance, smacking her glossy lips together. “Yep. Sparks were flying like bullets.”
I ram my elbow into her ribs, the heat morphing into a brushfire down my neck.
She sends me a sly wink.
“You’re sure you’re over Irving?” I pivot.
She feigns a tear. “Irving is a part of my past, Annalise. We are go-getters. Future setters.”
Swallowing hard, I glance toward the karaoke stage where a DJ is setting up. The place is jam-packed, filled with sticky floors, neon beer signs buzzing against wood-paneled walls, and a low ceiling that traps the heat and noise. This is the absolute last place Alex would choose to be, but he can’t complain about not spending enough time together while brushing off my attempts.
Besides, it was starting to feel like that brushfire was a wind gust away from multiplying into a blaze beyond my control. All these late-night get-togethers. All this time spent collaborating, making music. I needed to introduce them. Quickly.
Double date to the rescue.
I scan the rest of the room, looking for a familiar tousle of earthy brown hair and broad shoulders. Chase is nowhere to be found. Taking the lead, I guide Alex and Kenna over to an empty four-person table.
I wonder if he’ll even show. Reluctance shimmered in his gaze when I broached the subject. More like absolute dread. Chase is far from an extrovert, so convincing him to join me at a karaoke bar after a long shift at work, while playing matchmaker to my best friend, while also introducing him to my boyfriend, was a herculean task. Yet…somehow, he agreed.
I definitely owe him a drink.
Alex collapses into a chair, looking downright miserable. His leg bounces with unease, his stony eyes casing the room. “Looks like he bailed. Let’s grab food.”
“He didn’t bail,” Kenna says, plopping down across from him and discarding her purse. “He’s eager for a frontrow seat to my karaoke debut. Britney. Obviously.”
“You can’t sing.” Alex glares at her, pursing his lips. “At all.”
“That’s subjective,” she snips back.
Alex doesn’t like Kenna. Says she’s a “bad influence,” whatever that means. But all she’s ever done is love me unconditionally since we were seated next to each other in the third grade.
We share a smile.
I wring my hands together, sliding in next to Alex. My cheeks puff with a trapped breath. Kenna drives the conversation—because sheisan extrovert—while I watch the entrance like an unwavering hawk. Only a few minutes pass before Chase shuffles through.
That feeling swells in my gut again. Strange, instinctual.
A warning.
I veer my attention toward the bar, hoping to summon a double-shot of tequila with only mind voodoo.
Kenna twists around in the seat, following my stare. Then she lifts her hand with an animated wave, snagging Chase’s attention. There’s a slight limp to his gait. There always is. He moves to the table, catching my eye for a beat, before panning over to Kenna, then Alex. A muscle in his cheek ticks.
He peels off his leather coat as he approaches, draping it over the back of the empty chair. “Hey,” he says, tone unreadable.
“Hey!” Of course I overcompensate. “You made it!”
“Yeah.” A beat of hesitation, and then he sits down, falling silent again.
Nobody knows what to say, what to do. I told Kenna to act natural, but now I’m concerned. Her version of natural is the same as my version, which is never natural.
And the only thing we hate more than tofu is awkward silences.
