“By the way, have you seen my new sweater?” she asked, clearly trying to change the subject. “I think I lost it.”
“I returned it for you already.” The sweater in question had been an impulse buy for Sybs, and while she could pull off just about anything, the rust-orange and neon-yellow combination on that cardigan was truly unholy. “It was on my way to work anyway.”
“Emmm… Now I don’t have an excuse to go to Midtown and casually run into Sebastian outside of his office!”
Ah.
So it wasn’t so much a sweater as a ruse.
“Well, you could still pretend to do that.”
“I could, but it’s much more convincing with a prop. Having it helps me get into the role of Hot Twentysomething Who Doesn’t Need a Man But Could Be Convinced If It Was Someone Very Special, Casually Returning Wool Sweater.”
“That’s a very specific role.”
Sybil’s current obsession was Sebastian Wallace-Conway, a photojournalist for theTimeswho always seemed to have just enough time in the city for Sybil to come to his place late at night, but never enough time to take her on a date. It was no secret that I wasn’t his biggest fan. Mostly because he justdrifted in and out of Sybil’s life, always leaving a trail of running mascara and empty sauv blanc bottles in his wake. But on the rare occasions when he did stick around long enough for us all to hang out, I actually found his company enjoyable. He was a lot like Sybil—larger than life, emitting an energy that you just wanted to be a part of. And, of course, he was predictably gorgeous, in a rugged, artsy kind of way.
“Okay, well, I’m sorry I ruined Operation Return Heinous Sweater.” I rolled my eyes into my wineglass. “But can we get back to the fact that you’ve been hiding critical information from me?”
“You mean about Finn coming? Sorry. I just assumed things might be weird with you two.”
A jolt of worry ran through me that maybe Finn told Sybil about what happened, or rather, whatnearly happened, in the pool four years ago. “Wh-why would you think that?”
“Oh, you know.” Sybil waved her hand. “The prom of it all.” I breathed an internal sigh of relief. The prom of it all had fallen to my second-most-emotionally-fraught interaction with Finn Hughes. Now, it was the thought of his hands tangled in my wet hair and his lips on my throat that left me taking another long pull from my glass. But that was four years ago—ancient history. Huge mistake. I was a totally different person now. I was finally with someone who checked off every box I could think of. Preston was smart, gorgeous, and ambitious. Honestly, I felt like he was out of my league. And sometimes, it felt like he knew it too. He had the same razor-sharp wit that Finn did, but it wasn’t always tempered by the same sweetness. Preston could be quick with a zinger, but his sarcastic comments often had an edge to them that made me wonderif he was using humor to reveal his true feelings about me.Babe, come on, you’ve never read Pynchon? Didn’t they have an English department at that little state school?Preston had gone to Cornell.
And then I remembered. “Ugh, Preston is going to a bachelor party in Montana this weekend.” There was no way I was going to Preston’s apartment if he wasn’t there. He lived with four other former members of the Cornell crew team, and the floor only got cleaned if someone knocked over a beer can—sometimes not even then.
“Okay.” Sybil shrugged. “Finn can just have the couch, then.”
“So long as he doesn’t bring a girl back. I don’t need to stumble upon one of his Hinge hookups in the middle of the night.” I clicked my teeth shut at the look on Sybil’s face. “Don’t tell him I said that,” I muttered into my wineglass.
Sybil cocked an eyebrow at me. “That shouldn’t be an issue. He’s gotten serious with some girl out in SF.”
“Oh.” I ignored the wave of something—surprise, disappointment, indigestion?—that rippled through me. “That’s great.”
“Is it?” Sybil asked.
“Absolutely.” I downed the rest of my country club pour in one go.
FINN HADN’T MADE ITto our apartment before I headed out for work the next day, but I knew he was there when I got home, thanks to the sad country boy music spilling into the hallway.The twang of Tyler Childers’s voice rose another decibel as I opened the door to our apartment.
“Hi.” Finn leaned against the back of the couch, a Brooklyn Lager dangling from his fingers.
I cleared my throat and spoke over the music. “Hi.”
The moment hung between us. He didn’t make a move to get up, and I took the time to look at him. He seemed older. Which, of course he was. But all the lankiness of his teenage years had been filled in by muscle. He looked like a man. An incredibly attractive man. Sharp dark brown eyes against his brown skin, close-cut hair, and cheekbones that could slice through glass. Not that it mattered to me.
“I’m just going to…” I motioned toward the bags slung around my shoulder and tried to squeeze past him on the way to my room.
“Right, yeah. Sorry.” He tried to give me more space, but we ended up blocking each other’s path, like some strange partner dance. I went left, he went left. I went right, he went right. Once. Then twice. The third time, his hands came to my shoulders, and my neck craned up to look at him, and he smiled. “You stay, I’ll move.”
I stood completely still as he released his hands and slid around me. His body didn’t touch mine, but my every hair follicle followed his path. I had to stop myself from turning toward him.
“Emma! You’re here! Let’s go get drinks!” Sybil’s voice cut through the music, and the moment snuffed out as she appeared in the doorway of her room.
“One sec.” I hurried into my own room, taking a quick look into the mirror above my desk. It could definitely have beenworse. I swiped a tissue beneath my lash line and brushed on another layer of mascara.
“I’m starving. Can we do dinner first?” I called, dragging off the navy blouse I wore to work. The temperature had dropped several degrees today—apparently real autumn was finally ready to make an appearance—so I pulled on a pair of sheer tights beneath my short black skirt. On top I went for a filmy black sleeveless shirt with a beaded detail around the collar that I had found at a thrift store in Austin two years ago. I finished it off with a pair of slouchy black boots.
