by Lacey Black
It’s five minutes before six and I’m just getting to the event hall. My black necktie is already stifling me, but I do my best not to fidget with it. Instead, I push past the alumni gathered in the hallway and head toward the hall entrance. A table is stationed outside where we check in and are given a nametag. I stick mine on my lapel, smile at the two older ladies manning the entrance, and head inside.
Soft music fills the massive room as I step inside. The lighting is low and the room buzzing with laughter. Waiters walk around with glasses of champagne, while two long bars are stationed on each end of the hall. First up, grab a drink. Then, find Cricket.
I offer greetings to those who make eye contact without stopping to chat. When I’m in line at the bar, it’s the first time I really take a deep breath. I’m not a fan of suit and tie affairs, especially when surrounded by hundreds of people. I should probably stick to beer, but that’s not what I order when I finally make my way to the front of the line. “Seven and seven,” I tell the pretty bartender in a fitted white dress shirt and long black skirt.
I pull a ten from my wallet as she makes my drink, and casually glance around the room to see if I can spot Cricket. I’m sure she’s here already. Her plan was to meet up with her friends for a few drinks and then arrive in time for the six p.m. social hour, and even though socializing isn’t exactly my cup of tea, Cricket is a natural in a crowd.
“Thanks,” I say as I take my drink, throwing a few singles in the tip jar, before moving around the room.
I start in the back and work my way around the side of the room, slowly sipping my drink. The place is filling up quickly and finding Cricket is proving to be a difficult task. I make it all the way around the outer perimeter of the hall, resolved to moving to the inner part of the room, when I hear the sweetest sound. Her laugh.
My eyes scan the crowd until they fall on the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Cricket Hill. She’s wearing that sexy gold dress, which seems to look even more stunning hugging her curves than I could have ever imagined when I saw it on the hanger. The dress hits mid-thigh and is framed by lean, toned legs. She’s wearing those strappy black heels, and now that I see them on her feet, all I can picture is how incredible they’d look wrapped around my waist. Her hair is down and her makeup is smoky. But the best part? Her lips are painted a deep red. The color of wine and bad decisions.
I feel it clear down to my toes when she slowly turns, her eyes meeting mine. Like a punch to the gut. And the heart. Her eyes light up as she smiles my way. Her legs chew up the space between us as she excuses herself and heads toward me. Cricket’s eyes scan my suit, the appreciation evident in those intoxicating green eyes.
Even if I could talk, I’m not sure what I’d say. Words like beautiful, gorgeous, and stunning don’t even seem like strong enough adjectives to describe the way she looks tonight. In that dress, those shoes, and that fucking smile that makes my heart gallop in my chest like a fucking racehorse.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she says as she comes to a stop in front of me. Her eyes, so innocent and alluring, gaze up at me, so full of lust and need.
My eyes drink her in once more, my brain still unable to compute words, so I do the next best thing. The one thing that can convey my thoughts and my appreciation for how phenomenal she looks tonight. My lips press against hers, and she gives in to the kiss instantly. In fact, she steps forward, into my embrace, her hands pressing firmly against my chest. The hand not holding my drink wraps around her and rests on her lower back, while my lips devour hers. She tastes like champagne bubbles and mint.
“Well, hello to you too,” she whispers against my lips as I nibble on the swollen flesh of her bottom lip.
“You look…wow.” I glance down and take her in once more. She may not be mine forever, but she’s mine for right now.
Cricket grins at me. “Thank you,” she says, her eyes dropping to my shirt. Her hands skim my matte black tie before she straightens the knot at my neck, her fingertips dance across my smooth throat. “If I’m not mistaken, I’d say we planned this matchy matchy attire.”
“Pretty crazy, right?” When I packed my tan shirt, it was because it was the only one that fit me right in the neck. But now, looking at Cricket’s gold dress and black shoes, it’s like it was fate.
“You look very handsome,” she says, smoothing out my tie and resting her hands on my lapels.
“So, I don’t look as uncomfortable as I feel?” I ask, taking another drink of alcohol.
“Not at all. You look great.” Her eyes dance with excitement and happiness as she glances over her shoulder to the group she was talking to. “What do you say we snag me another glass of champagne, and then I’ll go introduce you to my friends. They’re dying to see you again.”
“Well, let’s not keep them waiting,” I tell her as I take her hand in my free one and lead her toward the nearest waiter. I release her hand only long enough to snag a glass. The moment she takes it, I take her other hand and lead her back the way we came.
“Ladies, you remember Rueben Rigsby? Rueben, this is Jenna and Craig Dawson and Bridget and Phil Beckman.”
“Great to see you again, Rueben. I remember you stopping by our study groups often,” Bridget says, smiling warmly at my date.
“I do recall crashing your study sessions,” I tell them, shaking their husbands’ hands and theirs as well.
“It was a welcomed reprieve, believe us. Some of those books we covered were monotonous and boring,” Jenna says.
We stand around and visit a little more as dinnertime approaches. When they announce that we can be seated at the tables, we find one that’s still open, the six of us taking three quarters of the table, and making ourselves comfortable. Water is poured into the goblets on the table and the server takes our drink orders. I opt to stick with water for the duration of the meal and am surprised when Cricket does the same.
“So, did you both use your communications degrees for your careers?” I ask when the server moves to the next table.
“I did,” Bridget says. “I went into radio. I host an afternoon program on a country station in central Illinois.”
“And I’m not utilizing my degree at all, unless you consider arguing with toddlers all day as communicating,” Jenna adds with a laugh.
“How many kids?” I ask. She holds up four wiggling fingers. “Four? Wow, that’s great.”
She laughs and looks at her husband. “It is great. I wouldn’t change it for the world. We had our first two sort of back-to-back. We said we were done, but then were surprised with a third pregnancy.”
“With twins,” her husband adds with a proud smile.
“That’s a lot of little ones,” Crickets says.
“It is, yes. Most of the time we’re outnumbered, outwitted, and outmaneuvered. I’m always tired and usually have something like food or spit up in my hair, but at the end of the day, I wouldn’t change any of it,” Jenna boasts, her loving eyes locked on her husband.
“She’s the best mom in the world,” he replies, kissing her hand tenderly.
Cricket glances over and catches my eye. It’s the first time I really try to put myself into someone else’s shoes. He has a loving wife, a brood of kids, probably mounting bills, and a mortgage that rivals the purchase of a small country. But he looks happy. Elated, actually.
And suddenly, I want that. No, not right this moment, but I allow myself to stop and think about it. A wife, some kids, and a house with a swing set in the backyard. Maybe even a horse or two in a pasture that we can take care of and ride. I haven’t been riding in ages, but I grew up with a horse. We had Shadow until my dad passed. When my mom sold the house, she left Shadow behind for the new owners and their kids to love and ride. I’ve never really thought too much about that horse until now. It almost feels like another piece of me was lost when he passed away. The only difference is I can actually do something about one of them. I can’t bring my dad back, or Shadow for that matter, but I can find a new
horse, a new place to love, and maybe raise a family.
My daydreaming is interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Are these seats taken?” Danny is there, Ellen hanging off his arm like candy sprinkled in diamonds, and smiling down at our table.
“Oh, uh,” Bridget starts, turning her panicked eyes to Cricket.
Cricket tenses beside me, and even though I don’t have any issues with Danny—other than him being an occasional douche nozzle—my loyalty has changed. He’s still my friend, but not the one I protect and want to take care of. That’s Cricket, and if she’s not comfortable with Danny and Ellen sitting with us, then I’ll say so.
Before I can open my mouth to tell them those seats are reserved, she surprises me and speaks up. “No, Danny, they’re not taken. You and Ellen are welcome to sit with us.”
I glance her way, one eyebrow raised in question, but she just slips me a small smile and takes my hand under the table.
“Danny Ohara, good to see you again,” Bridget says, taking a drink of her champagne.
“Ladies, lovely to see you again. I trust you’ve enjoyed the alumni celebration so far?” he asks, always charismatic, as he helps Ellen take a seat beside me.
Great.
“It’s been a nice day,” Jenna confirms, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
Apparently, the girls don’t like Danny any more than Cricket does. I’m sure she told them all about their breakup and the way her life changed over the course of the next decade, which might be why they’re both about a degree above frosty at this moment.
We’re saved from more idle chitchat when our server arrives with a tray of salads. We all dig in, enjoying first the salad and soup, and then the main course of sirloin steak with roasted potatoes and green beans. Ellen, of course, chooses the vegetarian option, and I struggle to hold in my chuckle when Cricket rolls her eyes.
Throughout the meal, Danny monopolizes most of the conversation with stories of himself, and while that’s not in the least surprising, what is, is the fact that Ellen seems completely bored out of her mind as he drones on and on about how amazing he is. He’s definitely his own biggest fan, that’s for sure, but I suppose that hasn’t changed much. Danny was the exact same in college, whether in class or on the football field.
As our plates are collected and a chocolate mousse cake is passed out, the current school president of SIU takes the stage and welcomes the alumni. I try to listen to him talk, but to be honest, he could be selling trade military secrets to the entire audience and I wouldn’t have a clue. I’m focused on the way Cricket’s hand fits in mine. How she sips a fresh glass of champagne between bites of her chocolate cake. How she continually glances to the front of the room and looks as if she’s truly listening to what the man is saying. When he finishes and turns the podium over to one of our classmates who became a young House Representative last year, Cricket continues to take in his words, a small smile playing on her lips.
Suddenly, she glances my way and our eyes lock. Hers dilate under the low lighting, her fork with a sliver of cake on it abandoned. Cricket tightens her grip on my hand and her lips gently curl upward. I’m lost in a sea of green eyes and swirling emotions. Jesus, this woman is… amazing. She’s breathtaking. She’s everything.
The man with the microphone drones on and on about the state of Illinois and the success rate of college graduates, I focus all my attention to the woman to my left. I don’t even care that I’m blatant in my staring. She’s all I see.
A hand with eagle talons scores across my thigh. Considering Cricket is taking another sip of champagne with one hand and the other is tucked in mine, I’m willing to bet my left nut this hand belongs to the blonde viper to my right. I try to shift to my left, but the hand seems to cling to my leg like a monkey to a tree branch. I glance her way, but Ellen’s attention is focused on the stage.
Reaching for my water, I chug most of the glass’s contents, wishing it were something hard like scotch. Unfortunately, I’m left with ice water for the foreseeable future, since the servers and waiters aren’t walking around during the speeches.
On stage, the speaker finishes up and introduces a woman I vaguely remember from school administration. Everyone claps as she takes the stage, and I’m relieved when Ellen does so too. I relax in my chair, anxious to get this part of the dinner over with. This was one of the worst parts of college, listening to the endless lectures and just trying to keep up, so if the professor called on you for an answer, you were at least following along.
When the room quiets down, the speaker starts talking about the alumni association, and how much of an impact it has on the school. At least this topic is a little more interesting, as opposed to politics like the last guy. Of course, the premise of her speech is about money and why we should be giving more of it to our alma mater, but I get it, it’s part of her job. And to be honest, I could probably give a donation every now and again, especially when it goes to things like facility and education upgrades.
My mind is the furthest away from education though, when a hand cups my balls. I jump in my seat, my knee nailing the underside of the round table. Everything on the tabletop jumps, the clanking of glass and silverware heard throughout the entire hall. Cricket glances my way, her eyes wide in surprise, but what’s more surprising, is that the hand on my balls hasn’t moved an inch.
“Are you okay?” Cricket whispers as the attention returns to the front of the room.
“Fine, fine,” I reply, my voice tight and breathy, and not in a positive way. “I’m going to use the restroom. Excuse me,” I add, sliding my chair out quietly and forcing the fingers to let go of my boys.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Ellen. She doesn’t even bat a mascara-caked eyelash or take her eyes off the speaker up front. She’s cool as a cucumber as she sips her champagne, a coy smile playing on her lips. One that lets me know she knows I’m watching her.
I make quick work of exiting the hall and finding the closest men’s restroom. Since the speeches have commenced, there’s no one around except a couple slipping out of a closet, their clothes a little rumpled and their hair askew. Makes me wonder if they’re here together or if happenstance brought them to that supply closet.
I use the restroom quickly, noting that no one else is inside. When I’m washing my hands, the door behind me opens. Glancing up as I’m lathering has my stomach dropping into my toes. Ellen stands there, her arms crossed, pressing her boobs up and practically out of her red dress. Reaching for the towel, I keep my eyes on her the entire time. Not because I’m attracted to her, but because I don’t trust her.
“There a line for the ladies’ restroom?” I ask, throwing the paper towel into the trash bin and turning to face her.
She smiles even wider as she slowly starts to walk my way. “No,” she replies, coming to a stop directly in front of me. Her wide eyes are completely different than Cricket’s. First off, the color is all wrong, but there’s something else too. Where Cricket’s are full of innocence and vulnerability, Ellen’s are full of seduction and experience. “But the view is so much better in here than anywhere else,” she adds, placing her hands on my lapel and sliding them upward.
I grab her hands and stop them before they can reach my neck. “Stop, Ellen.”
“Stop what?” she asks, batting her eyelashes and giving me another coy smile.
“Stop playing games. I’m with Cricket,” I tell her, taking a step back, my ass hitting the sink.
Ellen rolls her eyes. “Pssh, I don’t mind sharing,” she replies, throwing her arms around my neck.
I practically toss her off me, causing her to stumble in her too-high heels. “Well, I do mind,” I state plainly, adjusting my cuff links and necktie. “I’m not interested, Ellen. Go back out to Danny.”
Again, she rolls her eyes and steps up beside me at the sink, wiping any lipstick smudges off her skin. “Danny? And who do you think is keeping him company right now, Rueben?” she asks.
J
ealousy races through me in a way it never has before. I don’t want to think about Danny and Cricket together, not after everything we’ve shared in the last twenty-four hours. Yes, it’s hard to believe it was only yesterday afternoon that we ran into each other at the airport, but so much has happened in that short amount of time, and I’m definitely not ready for that to end. Even more so, I’m not ready to lose her, especially to Danny Ohara.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, walking right by her and heading for the door. “My girlfriend is waiting for me.”
She doesn’t turn around, but our eyes lock in the mirror. “Don’t be silly, Rueben. We both know she’ll pick him. They always pick him,” she says, vocalizing my greatest fear come to life and making my heart hammer in my chest.
It wouldn’t be the first time a girl chose Danny over me. In college, before he was dating Cricket, there was this girl, Aimee, who lived in the same dorm building as us. She was a floor below us, but I often found us passing on the stairs or eating lunch in the common area at the same time. She was beautiful and driven—way out of my league—and had the sweetest smile. I saw her one night at some off-campus party Danny convinced me to go to, and I made the mistake of telling him I thought she was hot. I ended up heading home earlier than him, mostly because I wasn’t into the shit that was passed around the later the night went on.
Next morning, I woke up and found her in my roommate’s bed. He could have had anyone at that party, yet he took home the one girl there I told him I liked. When they woke, Danny played ignorant, like he had no clue how she got there, and I didn’t call him out on his blatant lie. Should I have? Fuck, yes. In hindsight, I should have confronted him on taking her home, bringing her back to the small dorm we shared together, but I didn’t. Technically, I had no claim to the girl. I was just a computer geek with a crush. So I let it go, but never told him of any of my crushes again.
Now, his girlfriend—or whatever it is Ellen is considered—is telling me he’s out there, keeping my girl company, and insinuating they’ll be back together in no time. My mind goes right back to that morning where I found him and Aimee in bed together. Jealousy is a bitter pill to swallow, and right now, I’m doing a terrible job of keeping it down.
