The large man who’d first greeted us watched us leave silently from a chair in the corner of the room. Outside, the air had cooled to a nearly pleasant temperature. There was something special about the city on a summer night. It made me feel like anything could happen, and I could be anyone I wanted to be.
“I’m not a prude,” I blurted once we were on the sidewalk in front of the church.
Wes slowly turned his head and lifted a brow. “Oh?”
“I’m just not used to all of that, okay?” I was grateful we were walking. It was easier for me to be vulnerable while moving and when Wes wasn’t doing the staring thing. “And the thought of obeying a man? In this sociopolitical climate?” I shook my head. “That’s crazy.”
I knew I was deflecting from the truth with humor and macrolevel cultural observations, but I was comfortable with that. I didn’t even know Wes. I didn’t owe him the truth.
Wes grinned. “Uh-huh. So your denial is political?”
“My denial?” I scoffed, glaring at him. “You don’t know me.”
“I’d like to.”
My heart fluttered, and I told her to cut it out. At the diner, he made it clear he intended onparting ways as friends.That was all this was—a bizarre friendship with potential hypnosis to ascend the ranks of a sex cult.
I was pleased Wes kept up with my pace just how I liked it—stupidly fast. “Wait, where are we going?”
“You always need a plan, don’t you, Nova?”
I opened my mouth to sayno, but I remembered I’d been ordered not to lie to him. And for whatever reason, I obeyed.
“Consider it a trust-building exercise,” Wes said.
If this is how I die, I’ll be so pissed.
We were heading west, deeper into Chelsea. The streets were lively, the energy electric. At nearly ten, most people’s Friday nights were just getting started.
At some point, I realized Wes had slowed down my breakneck pace, and I’d let him. He glanced over at me, that familiar humor dancing in his eyes again. I preferred this version of him to the quiet, broodier Wes from The Circle.
Though both versions had an exceedingly undesirable effect on me.
“Your folks chose an interesting name for a Southern Belle.”
My stomach dropped, and I focused on the wedding party pouring out of a bar in front of us. The equally gorgeous bridesmaids were wearing matching blush satin, and the men orbited them with lazy, tipsy smiles.
“My parents didn’t chooseNova. I did,” I said.
“I see,” Wes answered, subtly guiding me through the un-self-aware bubble of celebrants with a hand on the small of my back.
The weight of his hand sent a wave of pleasurable tingles down my spine. The touch was gone in the next blink.
I waited for him to pry, but he didn’t. My shoulders relaxed. “Are you going to tell me why you’re involved in a group you see straight through?”
Wes paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Someone from my past—someone in the scene—tipped me off about the group. Their information set off alarm bells, and I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I need to gather more information.”
Wes and his knuckle tattoos were clearly not law enforcement, so I didn’t quite understand his role here. Nor did his explanation clarify why he cared so much as to waste both time and money on a potentially dangerous cult. Unless, of course, he had a pathological white knight complex and control issues.
I eyed him carefully. “What are you going to do if peoplearegetting hurt?”
Wes paused, homing in on a bodega across the street. “It’s an evolving plan.”
Okay, so Wes had no plan. Unlike me, whose plan was elaborate and foolproof: find Lorelei, tell her toknock it offand consider entering a rehab facility, and wait patiently for the part of her program when she apologizes for all the pain she’s caused me and recognizes my longstanding devotion to her and our friendship. I graciously forgive her, and we both leave The Circle, never to return, happily ever after. No loose ends. Neat little bow. No potential issues in sight.
I truly couldn’t have written it better myself.
Wes guided me toward the crosswalk. “Have you ever had an egg cream?”
