by Holly Hall
“It’s gorgeous. Where’s Theo? I want to introduce him to Enzo before it gets crazy.”
“He had to work,” I said as I mentally shoved down disappointment. “He might come by later.”
“What the hell, Aves, you did this all yourself? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I can’t take all the credit. Cade and Jalen helped.” I couldn’t help but give her the side-eye, gauging her reaction. Her gaze was wistful as she looked around the room.
“I probably would’ve messed up your perfect vision anyway,” she said with a small smile, before draping an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. You deserve a shot.”
I dug in my heels, but Holland wasn’t having it, and she had the advantage of being a head taller than me. If I was at her mercy, I could at least call the shots. I flagged down the bartender and ordered lemon drops before I could be roped into taking straight whiskey.
“Ughhh,” she said dramatically when we were served. “It’s like cough syrup.”
“Happy birthday!”
“Happy birthday to me.” We clinked shot glasses before downing them, Holland’s lips puckering the entire time, and Lorenzo slid his card across the bar.
“They’re with me,” he said, tipping his head our direction. Holland nudged me in the ribs and winked. They’d have been a match made in heaven if she actually liked the guy.
A mix of Holland’s and my friends trickled into the bar over the next hour, and groups formed at the pool tables while others mingled around the room. I tried telling myself Theo wasn’t coming at all so I’d be less disappointed. It wasn’t working.
Eddie and Regina, from work, showed up half wasted already. An excellent distraction. Their antics occupied me for almost another half hour before I started zoning out in our booth, nursing a tonic water.
A nudge to my shoulder zapped my mind right back to the present. Holland, emulating a fencer with her pool cue, poking me from four feet away. “What’s with the long face?” she asked.
“What? Where?” I gave my voice a cheery pitch.
“Has he still not texted you?”
“Who?” I tried appearing clueless, but she wasn’t convinced. “No.”
“Oooh, who?” Eddie piped up, leaning over the table. He’d been immersed in a discussion centering around on-screen couples only two seconds ago. It was like he had a sixth sense for potential gossip.
“Nobody.”
“Her neighbor,” Holland answered for me. “He’s super gorgeous, super interested in her, and he might show up tonight if he gets off work in time.”
“Work?” Eddie checked his watch. “It’s Saturday night. What is he, a club promoter? I warned you about those boys.”
“He is not. See? Totally uninteresting. Get back to your conversation about Jon and Daenerys,” I teased, shooing him away. As he wandered out of earshot, I spotted Cade near the bar, his arms crossed while he nodded placidly in response to whatever another guy was saying. For a human version of a golden retriever, he seemed unnaturally subdued tonight. Normally he’d be in the middle of the action at the pool tables, where a makeshift, but no less competitive, tournament had broken out.
“What’s with Cade?” I asked.
“What?” Holland looked over at him and then exhaled with such force it sent strands of her chestnut hair dancing. “Oh, his girlfriend is here. The one wearing the bodysuit.”
I spotted Alexia a few paces from him, coolly observing the room alongside a girl I didn’t recognize. “We met. Still doesn’t explain the sudden change in behavior.”
“You know how he is. When he meets someone new it’s like he takes a break from the group so the girl won’t get spooked. We’re a lot to handle.”
“Imagine if he didn’t have to do all that,” I said on a sigh, shooting her a loaded glance. “Imagine if, just once, someone was accepting of his rowdy friends and he didn’t have to worry about babysitting them.”
Holland nudged me harder that time. “Stop that.”
“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
“Give up the fantasy! We’re not in love with each other. The end.”
“I can’t believe you’re both still ignoring what’s right in front of your faces. It could be so easy! You’re so close.”
“Exactly. Like brother and sister. Can you imagine getting cozy with your brother?” She shuddered, but it wasn’t very convincing. “We have too much history. I know too much about him and he knows wayyy too much about me.”
“Whatever. I think you’re both headed down a one-way street to Regret City.”
“I think that lemon drop went straight to your head,” she countered.
Just then, Lorenzo hollered that it was her turn at one of the tables, and I watched as Cade’s eyes traced her movements across the room. Those two were either blind to their chemistry or stubborn as hell. My bet was on both.
Just then, someone stepped into my line of sight; someone who looked a little like Theo. I did a double-take. He was wearing something other than gym clothes, which is what contributed to my delayed realization. But it was Theo—the wide, determined set of his shoulders and slightly crooked nose were dead giveaways.
He scanned the part of the room opposite from where I was and spotted Holland. My initial excitement at seeing him dropped a notch. It was hard not to notice Holland first; I’d learned that within days of meeting her. She was tall and charismatic, and her loud, infectious laugh seemed to put bystanders under a spell.
They only exchanged a few words before Holland was pointing my way, and his eyebrows shot up and his expression brightened when he saw me. Wait, brightened? Maybe I was projecting my own feelings onto him.
He weaved through the crowded floor and approached the corner booth. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m so late. I changed at the gym and got here as quick as I could.”
“That’s okay,” I said with a wave, erasing any lingering signs of concern I’d had. “I hope your day wasn’t too crazy with work.”
“It wasn’t bad, I just can’t keep the gym open without someone there, and my weekend girl called in sick. I hate to close up early when my clients plan their weeks around their workouts.”
“Of course. You have to do what you have to do.” It was refreshing to speak with someone who was just as passionate about their work and didn’t hesitate to step up when they needed to. “Let’s go get you a drink,” I suggested. I slid from the bench, and we walked together to the bar.
Theo rested his elbows on the mahogany counter, making himself at home. It wouldn’t be unexpected for someone to come into this situation a little shyly, not knowing anyone, but he showed no sign of concern. He was content to observe the goings-on around us with casual interest before delegating his focus back to me. “What are you having?”
“Oh,” I raised my empty glass, “tonic water.”
“Are you not drinking tonight?”
“I was, but I’m saving my calories.”
He raised an eyebrow. “On your best friend’s birthday?”
“It’s called willpower, and I don’t have much. I’m trying to stick to something this time.” I shifted in place. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His eyes switched between mine. “Like what?”
“Like that—with pity. Because I mentioned the diet thing.”
“Is that what you think that was?”
I swallowed. The conversation was making me itchy. “Well, yeah. I’m sure you have no problem working off the beers you had the night before, so maybe you can’t relate.”
“I was wondering whether someone made you feel that way—like you had to ‘save calories’—or if you’re just interested in doing it for yourself.”
My cheeks were hot, and I fought the urge to place my cold glass against them. I could’ve shot back that not every woman’s decision had to be influenced by a man. But while the general statement was true, I was all too aware of the self-doubt that’d been ingrained in me over the mo
nths I was with my ex, Liam. Undoing that sort of psychological manipulation was a process. I still wasn’t free of its longstanding clutches. But Theo and I weren’t yet at a place where I felt comfortable sharing.
“I . . . um . . . just for myself. For once, I want to stick with something good for me.”
“I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s your business. But maybe I understand that better than anyone.” When the bartender approached, Theo tipped his head to the side. “Mind if I order you something?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to be difficult.
“Can you make two light margaritas? Tequila, soda, plenty of lime, and just a dash of agave?”
“I’ve never heard of a margarita with soda,” I said when the bartender bustled off to make our drinks.
“It’s something I recommend to my clients when they want to indulge without the bloat.”
I leaned his direction. “Tequila makes me crazy.”
“Did the same asshole tell you that too?”
I blinked. Swallowed. Reminded myself what happened when I dove too deep too fast. Deferring his line of questioning, I opted for something safer. “I’m glad you could make it.”
His expression softened. “Me too. It’s good to see you, you know, outside of the apartment.”
I bit my lip before I could blurt anything. “Nightlife-me isn’t all that different from apartment-me. Just dressed better.”
“You’re always dressed up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look relaxed.”
“I relax,” I protested. “And, that’s not true. You saw me in my laundry attire.”
“Right.” He smacked his forehead. “How could I forget the laundry attire?”
“After the disaster I was? I have no clue.”
“Is that what you call a disaster? I guess there’s no hope for the rest of us.” The bartender chose that moment to appear with a shaker, which he poured the contents of into two glasses before garnishing them with limes. I took a sip and smacked my lips appreciatively, grateful for a distraction in the form of a drink. Theo was so perceptive, and I was wary of that. Wary he’d peel back my curated exterior and get a peek at all my complexities.
I tilted my glass. “This is very good, by the way.”
“I’m glad you like it. Now, I want to meet your friends.”
It wasn’t a difficult task; the group that amounted to “my friends” was quite small. There was no need to reintroduce him to Holland, so I started with a few of the guys who made up her circle, which included Cade and their college buddies . . . and Man-Bun Ian. Then there were my work friends. Eddie only took his heart-eyes off Theo for the time it took to shoot me innuendo-laden looks. There were a few others I knew through acquaintances, and then we wandered over to a two-top off to the side, and I gave him the rundown of the group’s dynamic.
I pointed between Cade and Holland with my pinky. “Those two have been friends since high school but are too dumb to see they’re in love with each other.”
As if to prove my point, Cade tucked a lock of hair behind Holland’s ear while they laughed about something. She had a pinkish birthmark on her neck, which she strategically masked with her long hair. What was once purposeful had become habit, and she automatically shook her hair forward when she suspected it was showing. I’d told her it was the last thing anyone noticed, much less cared about, but it fell on deaf ears.
“Is this something they’ve talked about, or are they avoiding that too?”
“They most definitely have not talked about it. At least not to my knowledge. Holland says all the history makes it impossible for them to be anything more than friends. What do you think? Is it possible to know too much to be with someone?”
“I don’t think so.” Theo appraised me thoughtfully over his drink. “When you choose to be with someone, you also choose to accept everything that comes with them. Every flaw they have or mistake they’ve made. Maybe it’s harder to know all those things at once and have to look past them versus learning them over time.”
I nodded. What he was saying made a lot of sense.
“But, I know I’d be afraid to risk an irreplaceable friendship. It’s hard for opposite sexes to be friends in the first place. If not for the obvious hormones and attraction and whatnot, then for the pressure from everyone else. Everyone around them probably thinks ‘there’s something there,’” he said with air quotes. “I’m sure they’ve dealt with that from their significant others, too.”
“Speaking of . . .” I looked around. “Cade’s girlfriend must’ve left—he doesn’t give Holland the time of day when his girlfriends are around—and Lorenzo must be downstairs or something. But there is something there. They finish each other’s sentences and stuff. It’s super freaky. And he’s even heard her fart before, which, as you know, is monumental.”
“Heaven forbid a woman have normal bodily functions,” he deadpanned, until a laugh burst from his lips and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I did not expect the word ‘fart’ to come out of your mouth.”
“That was your fault! I warned you about the tequila.” I pressed my hand to my lips. My goodness, where were my inhibitions? They were yet another casualty of his charm. The realization that he was the kind of man who’d be easy to fall in love with settled over me, and that was nothing short of terrifying.
Theo was touching me again, drawing my hand away from my face. “Don’t. I like seeing you with your hair down. You’re blushing, too, but I think that’s from the alcohol. It hasn’t let up since I got you that drink.”
“That’s your fault, too. I’m not sure you can be trusted,” I managed to say while catching my breath, trying to keep myself from tallying up all the times he’d inadvertently touched me over the past week. Based on the erratic rhythm of my heartbeat, it was a hazard to my health.
“I like it.”
“It sounds like you like a lot of things.”
“I like a lot of things about you.”
“Theo.” The word was a warning, and his brow furrowed in response. It’d be typical of me to let these things go, to let him sweep me off my feet without a word of protest. But that wouldn’t be constructive. There was a time when the chemistry ran out, and then where would we be? Relationships didn’t thrive on charisma alone. I’d learned that already. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“About what?”
“About us. I . . .” I shook my head and looked around, but nobody was paying us any attention. “I’m not in the position to date someone right now. Not that that’s even on your mind. But you bought me a drink and now you’re touching my hand, and I thought you should know.”
He shifted closer but released my hand. “Maybe I’m giving off the wrong vibe, but don’t think you owe me something just for giving you attention, Ava.”
“Are you saying you’re just being nice?”
“Maybe I just want to get to know you.”
“What’s the point?”
His nostrils flared, but just briefly. “Do you run from everyone who shows the slightest bit of interest in you?”
He was easy to be around, but he was good at putting me on the spot, too. The room was growing hot. We were getting too deep.
Then his features smoothed and the intensity was gone. “Remember your list? I don’t align with any of those qualities. College degree? Nope. Owns at least one good suit? Negatory. Debt-free? Hell no. Probably the only one I can check off is the ‘kind to animals’ one. So, see? I’m an unsuitable husband and pretty much the optimal friend. Harmless.”
“Seriously?” I exclaimed, slapping the table between us. “I thought you didn’t read it!”
“I glanced at it, but I saw enough. It was on pink paper,” he said in explanation.
“I’m officially going to die of embarrassment.”
“It’s good to know what you want. And I’ve heard it’s effective to write those things down. ‘Manifestation,’ or something like that.”
“That’s what my mood
board is for,” I said, not expecting him to have any clue what that was. “Hey, you just said you didn’t get a college degree. I thought the other night you said you studied nutrition?”
“I was enrolled, took four semesters, but I didn’t finish my degree.”
“Why? If you don’t mind me asking,” I added quickly. I wasn’t trying to offend him.
“It just wasn’t for me. I knew I wanted to be an entrepreneur, but I couldn’t stand being in the classroom. I didn’t test well. Of course, taking a few business classes would’ve spared me a ton of headaches, but they weren’t a requirement for what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to waste any time when I knew there were already people out there hustling for the same dream.”
I had my chin in my hands, listening aptly. Something about him being so up-front about what other people might consider shortcomings was endearing.
“It’s awesome that you were able to make that happen.”
“I owe it all to my mood board,” he said with a teasing grin. Then he glanced down at his watch and did a double-take. “Shit, it’s one o’clock.”
“Is your carriage going to turn into a pumpkin at two?”
“Funny.” He tipped back the beer he’d ordered during our conversation, his Adam’s apple rolling in his throat as he swallowed. Was it possible for someone’s throat to be appealing? “I hate to run out on you like this, but I have a client early in the morning.”
I sat back, waved off his concern, reminded myself to be easy breezy. “No problem, you’ve been here for hours. And besides, Holland was the one who invited you.” And just like that, I was back to shoving my foot in my mouth.
“And thank goodness for that, or I wouldn’t have had the chance to embarrass you some more.”
“I do it enough on my own, apparently.”
Theo rose from the table, glancing around as if to check he wasn’t forgetting something. I stood, too, unsure of my next move. Then Theo was draping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in for a hug. I felt the barest graze of his cheek against my hair, and something about it tugged a string in my chest that seemed to be connected to my heart. Or maybe it was the fact that my own cheek brushed his shirt and I got a whiff of piney cologne.