by D. R. Graham
She gets rid of her empty wine glass on a nearby table. “For drinking? Legally, yes, it is too young.”
“No. I mean for knowing who you are and what your future is going to be.”
“Yes,” she sounds amused, but sympathetic. “Eighteen is also too young to know all that.”
“But it’s not too young to get married.”
The way her expression turns uneasy makes me think she suspects it’s not an idle statement. She takes a moment to wave politely at a woman across the room, but when she faces me, she’s serious. “Your mom got married at eighteen. You tell me if you think it’s too young.”
I turn away to avoid the question and the apprehension in her eyes. From across the room, the pot smoker’s gaze meets mine, and he heads in my direction, as if he’s been looking for me. He is wearing a charcoal suit, and his wavy dark hair is slicked back except for a small curl that has escaped over his forehead. Although it is not a style that would earn him any street cred, it’s kind of working for him in a boy-next-door way. Elizabeth realizes I’m distracted and glances over her shoulder. The guy walks right up and shakes her hand. “Mrs. Montgomery. Nice to see you. How’s the fundraising for the hospital coming along?”
“Wonderfully. Have you met my niece, Tienne, yet?”
He raises his eyebrow and smiles in a way that most girls likely find charming. “No, not formally.” He extends his hand to shake mine. “Leland Crofton.”
His expression is the one that guys always get when they assume they’re going to score. Whether he thinks I’m cheap or that he’s God’s gift, it pisses me off. To give him the hint that he’s wasting his time, I make my hand feebly limp as he shakes it. “Of the Crofton Airlines Croftons or something?” I ask in a disinterested way.
He scans my face as if he’s trying to get a read on me. “The Crofton Construction Croftons.”
“You’re a liar. Those ridiculously soft hands haven’t done a day of construction in your life.”
He glances at his palms and shrugs. “My dad’s haven’t either. He’s more the visionary—high-rises and highways all over the world.”
“Impressive,” I say with more than enough sarcasm to deliver the sentiment. “It’s always nice to hear about companies that are committed to reducing our carbon footprint.”
Elizabeth gives me a warning glare, but Leland goes on, ignoring my tone and her discomfort.
“It just so happens that high density buildings can be eco-friendly if built properly. That’s actually part of my job. I find ways to make our projects more sustainable.”
“That’s wonderful,” Elizabeth chirps, to smooth over my bad manners.
He grins as if he thinks he’s gained some sort of advantage by impressing my aunt. I wrinkle my nose like I smell his bullshit. “Were you smoking marijuana or did you have a run-in with a skunk?”
“Tienne!” Elizabeth gasps.
He can tell I’m challenging him just to amuse myself and he confidently fires right back, “Actually, the truth is that I was out on the balcony.” He pauses and I wonder if he might admit to smoking pot just to call my bluff. Instead he says, “A skunk was startled by a noise that sounded like breaking glass. I didn’t realize it had permeated my clothes. My apologies.”
Okay, he has more game than I gave him credit for. Not that I am actually going to give him credit.
“Oh, I can’t even smell it.” Elizabeth says. She places her hand on his arm and smiles at me with a mix of encouragement and caution. “Excuse me. I’ll let you two get better acquainted.”
As she walks away, he steps closer and studies me as if waiting for my next sassy comment. Around us, the party continues. No one is dancing, but the band’s lead singer is still moving in awkward contortions that only Mick Jagger should ever attempt. A waiter walks by with a tray of glasses filled with wine, so I snag one.
Leland watches me take a sip. “Go to dinner with me.”
“No.” I adjust my skirt even though it is already hanging perfectly.
“Why not?”
“Well, for one reason, I don’t respond well to being told what to do.” And if I were wearing my regular clothes, you wouldn’t even be asking me out right now.
“Will you please allow me the privilege of taking you out to dinner?”
“No.”
“Ouch.” He straightens as if ready to defend himself. “I asked nicely.”
I exhale slowly and attempt to be more polite. “How you said it is not my only reason for saying no.”
“What are your other reasons?”
“I don’t date guys who do drugs.”
“I’ll quit.” He answers too quickly to be sincere.
I shake my head and lean against the pillar again. “That’s what they all say. I don’t date liars either.”
“I’m serious. I just smoked my last joint.”
“You must be desperate to make a promise you can’t keep just so you can get a date with someone you don’t even know.”
“I’m not desperate. I’m motivated.”
Normally, if a guy is chatting me up, Aiden instantly slides in next to me to signal that I’m not available. If Aiden doesn’t notice right away, one of the club members lets him know pretty quickly. It feels weird that I’m still standing here all by myself. No Aiden. No one to act as his eyes and ears. No pressure to be who I have always been. I sneak a glance at Leland and finish off the glass of wine before I say, “Don’t quit killing your brain cells on my account. In my experience, guys who belong to clubs are trouble.”
“I’ll quit the club too.”
“Although we both know you’re full of shit, even if you did quit the club, the answer would still be no.”
Another waiter circles past and takes the empty glass for me as if he read my mind and knew I was searching for a place to put it down. Leland laughs and runs his hands through his hair as if he can’t believe how difficult I’m being.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Crofton? Don’t girls usually say no to you?”
“No, they don’t.”
“How incredibly arrogant of you to say.”
“I’m joking.” He removes his suit jacket, drapes it over the back of a chair, and loosens his tie. Okay, maybe suits can be somewhat sexy. Aiden would look amazing in a suit, not that he’d get caught dead in one, and not that he would appreciate that I’m noticing how some other guy looks in one. “What would it take to convince you to go on a date with me?”
There is nothing in the world that could convince me. “What do you care? I heard that you don’t date girls from the country club.”
When he moves so we are standing more shoulder to shoulder, a hint of his expensive cologne wafts over me. “How did you hear that? Were you asking the girls about me?”
“No, I was not asking the girls about you.” I open my purse and check the time on my phone, hoping that he’ll take the hint I’m bored with him and go hit on someone else. “Your name was mentioned in a tedious conversation in which I was merely a bystander.”
“You’re not technically a club girl.”
I chuckle. “No, not a country club.”
He gently slides my phone out of my hand and drops it back in my purse, capturing my full attention. “I can tell that you’re not like all those other boring girls.”
I tilt my head and arch my eyebrows in a consolatory way. “Too bad I can’t say the same about you.”
“Are you implying that I’m boring or girly?”
I glance at his silver tie, charcoal trousers, and black dress shoes. His skin is clean-shaven and definitely moisturized. His teeth are perfectly white and his fingernails are shiny like they were recently manicured. He also smells like something I would like to bathe in. “Both.”
He laughs. “Are you single?”
“Nope, but that wouldn’t matter.”
“Why? I’m not your type?”
My eyes scan his lean build, pausing on his lips for longer than I intended. “Nope.”
“The opposite of you. No offense.”
He chuckles. “You’re mean.”
“I said no offense.”
He smiles in a mischievous way. “Is your hostility genetic or hormonal?”
Oh, no he didn’t. “Definitely genetic, and if you value your life you won’t refer to me as hormonal again.”
“So, you’re abrasive toward everyone and it’s not just me who you find repulsive?”
“I’m nice to a few people.”
He sips his wine slowly. “What would I have to do to become one of those people?”
I frown, surprised he’s still trying. Most of the guys I know would have walked away by this point. “Well.” I step into my shoes, which still leaves me a head shorter than he is. “Although your flirtatious banter is somewhat more entertaining than staring at the wall, I’m not interested in going on a date or having a quickie in the coat room. If you have a different topic of conversation that is a little more thought provoking and doesn’t revolve around the agenda of you getting yourself laid, I may be persuaded to continue standing here to get to know you strictly as a fellow member of the club. If you’ve got no other material, I’m outta here.”
I thought that might finally offend him, but he waves a hand like he’s erasing the last few minutes. “Okay. Sorry. Let’s start over. Where are you from?”
“East of here.”
“That’s fairly vague. It makes it difficult to have a cordial conversation if you don’t participate”
“Your problem. Not mine.” I flick my hair over my shoulders. Oops, that might have come across as flirty. How do I undo a hair flip?
His eyes linger somewhere around my collarbone for an extra beat before coming back to meet mine. Shit, he definitely took it as flirty.
The accidental signal seems to put him at ease and he asks, “What do you do?”
Hands at my sides. No hair flipping. No head tilting. No lip moistening. “I’m starting on Monday as an assistant at my aunt’s interior design firm, but I’m hoping to go to school to study acting.”
“Acting?” he scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to make it as an actor? A design career is more practical.”
“Really? That’s your angle? Squashing a woman’s dream?”
“Sorry.” He winces, then smiles in a sheepish way. “I’m sure you’ll knock them dead on Broadway one day.”
I roll my eyes at his attempt to backpedal.
He taps his lips and looks up at the ceiling as he thinks. “Okay, give me a second to come up with a charming conversation starter.”
“Aim for a non-insulting one. You’re never going to reach charming.”
He chuckles and glances across the room at his buddies who are probably aware of how much time he has already spent wheeling with no results. He turns his back to them, maybe to avoid the distraction or the pressure. “Okay. Let’s try something completely different. If you could be reincarnated as a wild animal what would it be?”
“A honey badger.”
He seems surprised and slightly impressed. “They’re vicious.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Is your hair naturally blond?”
“What do you think?”
He glances over at Cooper who also has white-blond hair and says, “Yes. It’s beautiful, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and tuck it behind my ear, wondering why he’s wasting his time.
He watches Cooper, who appears to be telling Sam a hilarious story that requires bold hand gestures. “If you were forced to choose between saving yourself and saving your brother, who would you choose?”
“My brother. In a heartbeat.”
“If you could use the club funds to bring in a band that actually has some talent, which one would you choose?”
“Aerosmith.”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t agree with my taste in music, but doesn’t challenge it. “Do you have a nickname?”
“Yes, but only certain people are permitted to use it.” People like Aiden. I open my purse and unzip the pocket to peek at the ring. The light from the chandelier catches the diamond and makes it sparkle.
“What do they call you?”
“If you were one of the people authorized to call me by my nickname, you would already know it.” I zip the pocket back up and check my phone to break whatever the vibe is that we have going. I’ve humored him way longer than I should have, and I’m starting to feel guilty about how Aiden would react if he knew I was letting a cute guy chat me up.
“Do you have any questions for me?”
“Nope.”
He chuckles at how uncooperative I’m being. It’s a pleasant laugh, though, so he must not mind my attitude, or he finds the game amusing. “What’s a quality you admire in your mom?”
“Nothing,” I say without hesitation. Okay. This conversation is definitely done.
He looks shocked for a second, but then his expression shifts to intrigued, and he keeps going. “What does your dad do for a living?”
God, take a hint. “My dad’s dead. He was murdered two months ago, in case that was going to be your next question.”
He actually flinches and shifts backward as if my words have physical impact. “Are you serious?”
I look away from him and my gaze falls on Cooper. I immediately regret blurting that out about our dad without thinking. Shit. The gossip will definitely filter down to Cooper and could ruin his chances to reinvent himself. Why did I do that?
Across the dance floor, Cara, Reese, and Haley glare at us as if I’m trespassing on their territory. One more reason I should have wrapped this up ages ago. “Listen, Landon, it—”
“Leland,” he corrects me.
“Right, Leland. It’s been nice chatting, but I’m bored and a little bit drunk. The country club girls are giving me the fuck-you vibe because Cara has the hots for you. If any of them is stupid enough to say something confrontational to me, it might get ugly. So, I’m going to go.”
“Can I get your number?”
“No.”
“Can I at least offer you a ride home?”
“Do you like how your face looks right now?” He frowns, confused by the question, so I clarify. “If my boyfriend finds out that you gave me a ride home, he’ll rearrange your face.” I reach up and lightly slap his cheek. “You’ve got a cute face, so it’s probably best if I just catch a cab.”
“You think I’m cute?” His boyish grin is kind of adorable, and it makes me smile. “Excellent. I made you smile. I think we’ve made enough progress for one evening. I will sharpen my conversational skills for when we next meet, Miss Montgomery.”
“Desrochers.”
“Tienne Desrochers, you are the most interesting person in this place.”
“That’s not saying much.”
He laughs and kisses the back of my hand as if I’m a princess or something. For some reason my cheeks feel as if they’re flushing. He looks up and his face turns serious. “Sorry to hear about your dad.”
Okay, well, that was unexpectedly sweet, but we’re done here. If I stay any longer the cracks in my façade are going to open up and spew the real me all over the place in an ugly mess. “See ya.”
I miss Aiden, and the more I think about it, the more sure I am that we need to discuss this whole engagement thing. I stumble a little as I walk over to Cooper. He’s at the dessert table eating a brownie. I reach over and grab a couple strawberries. “Will you be all right here if I take off?” Dumb question. Obviously, he’ll be all right here without me. He’s the one who belongs.
He nods and asks, “How are you getting home?”
“I’m going to catch a cab to Gylly’s place. Will you tell Elizabeth for me?”
“Sure.” He steals a glance at the group of teens who came back into the ballroom from the balcony. Sa
m’s gaze meets Cooper’s and he excuses himself from his friends before making his way in our direction.
“Sam seems nice,” I say.
“Yeah.” Cooper smiles, looking embarrassed that his feelings are so obvious.
“This place suits you, Lucky Boy. Have fun.”
“It could suit you too if you want it to.”
I look around at all the nicely dressed members and smooth the fabric of my dress. “Maybe.” I kiss his cheek, leave him with Sam, and call a cab on the way to wait by the front door.
The driver pulls up to the curb after only five minutes of waiting. In my old neighborhood, we had to sit around for at least twenty minutes and usually call twice. Sometimes they never showed at all. I guess they were busy shuttling around big tippers from the country club.
In the cab, I slide the ring back on and spin it around my finger. I think I need to give it back. Not because I don’t want to be with Aiden forever, but because I’m too young, and I really don’t want to follow in my mom’s footsteps. Waiting would be the better thing to do, right? He’s going to take it the wrong way, though. How am I supposed to tell the love of my life that I don’t want the engagement ring he gave me? Oh God. I’m dizzy. I roll down the window and lean my head on the doorframe.
“You’re not going to get sick, are you?” the driver asks over his shoulder.
“It’s hard to say.”
“Aim it out the window.”
He drives a little faster, obviously to get me out of his cab before I vomit. I don’t feel like puking. I feel more panicky.
I pay and step out of the cab. Then I take my heels off and carry them as I walk up the driveway and along the path to the front door. Maybe I shouldn’t bring up the ring tonight. I just want to sink into the familiar warmth of his arms and let the sound of his heart ground me back in reality.
After knocking, I lean my forehead on the siding and wait for Aiden to answer. The door opens a crack and he pokes his head out. “Ti. I didn’t know you were coming by.” He sounds genuinely surprised, but not necessarily in a good way.
