by Mia Sosa
But my worry is unnecessary. She executes the jump as perfectly as any student could, keeping her arms out and jumping up and back just as I instructed. Her body falls like a rag doll, and seconds later, she lands in the center of the airbag like as if it were a bull’s-eye. The class and crew cheer, while I gulp in deep breaths as I rush over to help her with her dismount.
She looks up at me with pride in her eyes. “I did it!”
“You sure did. You’re a badass.”
Her classmates surround her, celebrating a stunt well done, and I ease out of the circle, relieved that it’s over. More relieved than I should be under the circumstances. And I know exactly why. It’s not because she’s a student. It’s not just because she’s a friend. It’s because I care about her. Another one of my inconvenient truths that I’m not ready to face.
Kurt slaps me on the back. “You all right? Looking a little pale there.”
Dammit. Is it that obvious? “I’m fine. Didn’t eat lunch. I think it’s finally catching up with me.”
“I’ve got some protein bars in the office,” he says. “You’re welcome to have one.”
A protein bar isn’t going to help. My problem goes much deeper than a missed meal: Because, even though I was worried about crossing a physical line with Eva, I hadn’t counted on crossing an emotional one, too.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stalking is not a good look, sure, but who really cares what you look like when you’re stalking?
Eva
Friday evening, I join Tori and company on an outing to see Ashley perform with her new band, Syntax. Conveniently, we’re at Muddy’s, a bar and lounge in my neighborhood. Inconveniently, the men here are impersonating alien life-forms encountering people for the first time.
“If one more drunk frat boy steps up to me, I’m going to lose my shit,” I tell Tori.
Tori looks at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as she reapplies her lipstick. Tonight, her hair’s pinned on top of her head in a cascade of messy curls, and her face is positively glowing. “Yes, the clientele leaves a lot to be desired, but we’re here to support Ashley. Lower your expectations and you’ll have a better time.”
“I wish you had given me a heads-up, though. I wasted an outfit for this.”
Yes, I made a few assumptions about the place and the demographics of its patrons—namely, that the men would be older, wiser, and hotter than the guys I’ve met so far. None of those assumptions was warranted. Instead, I’m pretty sure I’m trapped on the set of The Unfuckables. And although I’m not actively searching for a hookup, I wouldn’t be averse to spending time with someone who can remind me that Anthony isn’t the only man in the universe.
“Speaking of outfits, is Carter going to take that silly disguise off?” I ask.
The man is wearing an obviously fake mustache, a baseball cap, and sunglasses—inside a dark bar.
“Nope,” Tori says with an exasperated shake of her head. “He thinks he’s fooling everyone. Doesn’t seem to understand that my presence next to him is a big clue as well. I’ve already picked my battles, and that wasn’t one of them.”
I stand behind her and primp my hair. “Fine. But if he insists on disguising his voice, too, I’m pretending not to know any of you.
“You have my full support on that game plan.” She spins around and places her hands on my shoulders. “Look, let’s just go out there and make Ashley feel loved.”
“Now that I can do.”
We walk out to the main lounge area, and once my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I stumble to a halt and pull Tori to a corner where we can’t be seen by the guys. “What’s Anthony doing at our table?”
Tori follows my gaze and scrunches her face. “I invited him. Is that a problem?”
“No, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting to see him, that’s all.”
I haven’t seen him since Wednesday’s class. In the meantime, I’ve thought about what he told me: He likes me as a friend and a person and he’s also attracted to me. It’s an underwhelming summary of his feelings, but I appreciate that he’s being straight with me. He just doesn’t want to be in a relationship. And given my history, I shouldn’t want to be in one, either.
“You two have been getting along, right?” Tori asks.
An image of the way he touched me in the back of his truck flashes in my brain. Oh yeah, we’re getting along splendidly. “Of course. He’s been great. Even took me to a drive-in movie last week.”
“He took you to the movies?”
“Yeah. Last Sunday. I was feeling frustrated about my ankle and he wanted to cheer me up.”
She peers at me, a pensive expression on her face.
“It’s not like that, Tori.” My voice betrays me, likely revealing that I wish it was like that.
She gives me a sympathetic smile and slips a hand around my waist. “Fine. I’ll just say this. Know what you’re getting into and be sure it’s what you want.”
“I’m not getting into anything.”
She gives me a smug look. “Okay, pendeja.”
“Okay, malcriada.”
Cackling at our ridiculous exchange, we weave through the rows of tables and chairs until we reach the men. They all stand as we sit. Not surprisingly, Anthony’s taken the open seat next to mine. He’s wearing jeans and a black V-neck with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His only accessory is a blue-faced watch with a brown leather strap. I’ve never seen it before, and that small detail suggests that although he may not be trying too hard, he did give some thought to what he would wear tonight.
“Damn, I was seconds away from sending a search party,” Carter says to Tori. “One of these days I’m going to find out what goes on in the women’s restroom, and I bet I’m going to be shocked.”
She shakes her head, raising her drink to her lips. “It’s really not that deep, sweetie. We’re either peeing, complimenting one another, or making plans to smash the patriarchy.”
“That explains everything,” Julian says.
Anthony leans into me. “How are you, Eva?”
Oh, dear God, his cologne is going to short-circuit my brain. Makes me think of sipping cognac in front of a fireplace. I bet it’s called Pheromones. “I’m great. You?”
“Good.” His gaze sweeps over the top half of my dress. “That dress looks perfect on you.”
I’m not ashamed to agree. It’s one of my favorites. A jersey tank that hugs my spectacular backside and emphasizes my small waist and round hips. “Thank you. Is your mind blown by seeing me in a dress for the first time? Admit it, I clean up very well.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you in a dress, though. You wore a dress with pretty little yellow flowers to Tori and Carter’s wedding.”
Oh, I shouldn’t be touched that he remembers, but I am. “Great memory, Mr. Castillo.”
“For the things that matter, Ms. Montgomery.”
A round of applause and Julian’s ear-splitting whistle prevent me from responding. Which is fortunate, because I’m at a loss for words. Is he flirting with me again? And to what end?
I set my cluttered thoughts aside and focus on the stage. Ashley’s standing in the center, backed by a drummer, two keyboard players, a bassist, and a sleepy-eyed man with an array of horns at his disposal. Her own acoustic guitar rests against a stand behind her.
“Good evening, everyone. We’re Syntax, and this is our first appearance as a band. Be gentle.”
She gets the chuckles she was hoping for, and when the crowd quiets down, the band begins playing its first song, a number that’s hard to characterize. The bluesy undertones are unmistakable, though, and remind me of Amy Winehouse’s music. Ashley’s delivery is relaxed, unrushed—and sensual as hell.
I shouldn’t want you, but I do
You shouldn’t want me, but you do
What are we going to do about it?
Tonight’s too soon
Wish I could say what this is
It is
n’t love and it isn’t hate
What are we going to do about it?
Tomorrow’s too late
Julian squirms in his seat, his gaze trained on the stage. I look between them, a voyeur to the intimate messages they’re sending each other. Ashley’s engaging in foreplay and forcing us to watch. Brava, my dear. Bra-va.
Anthony stands abruptly. “The servers aren’t coming around. I’m going to order a drink at the bar. Anyone need anything?” He looks at me. “Eva, you want a Cosmo or a Sea Breeze? Something with cranberry?”
Tori whips her head in my direction, her lips pressed together, but she doesn’t say anything. She wouldn’t with the guys around. Still, she wants me to know that she noticed that little exchange.
“No, I’m good,” I say, ignoring her.
Everyone else declines, too, and he slips away. I try not to follow him with my eyes, but within seconds I’m watching him squeeze his way to the front of the bar. A woman with dark hair and dark jeans edges close to him, and when a man abandons the space next to Anthony, she fills it, turning her face to give him a coquettish smile. Anthony leans forward to speak with the bartender, and then he angles his body in the woman’s direction and says something to her.
I can’t watch them flirt with each other.
No, I must watch them flirt with each other.
I need to see this, if only to be reminded that Anthony’s not my person and never will be.
Another round of applause pulls me out of my messy thoughts, and I belatedly—and distractedly—shower Ashley’s band with enthusiastic praise. “Woo-hoo! Yes, Ashley!”
Forgive me, Ash. I’ll make it up to you.
I’m trying to be as surreptitious about my visual stalking as I possibly can, but the moment I pretend to scan the bar area, Anthony leans into the woman and points at our table. She squints at us, and Anthony waves at me. Not knowing what else to do, I wave back. When they’re no longer looking our way, I slide down my chair. My public humiliation is well and truly complete.
Tori reaches across the table and taps me on my hand. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, refusing to look at her when I lie. “Just a little tired.”
“Hmm.”
My gaze snaps to hers. “Yes, exactly. Hmm.” I’m trying my damnedest to focus on Ashley’s band, but a part of me wants to go to the bar and watch Anthony up close. I want to hear what he says and how he says it. Is he flirty like he usually is with me, or is he smooth and mysterious in his approach?
I glance at the bar again, and a heavy weight settles in the pit of my stomach. Anthony’s walking out of the lounge area, and the dark-haired woman is trailing a few steps behind him. Wow, he works quickly, and he didn’t even say good-bye. My throat tightens and my vision blurs, but I try my best to shake it off, sucking on the last of my cocktail and pretending to enjoy the music I can’t really hear. It’s all white noise at this point.
Kudos to Anthony. He’s off somewhere with a woman who wants what he wants, while I’m stuck here with Julian, who’s still squirming in his seat; Carter, who’s fake-ass disguise is making me cringe; and Tori, who’s looking at me like she knows exactly what’s going on in my head.
Abruptly, I stand and place a few bills on the table. “Hey, guys. I think I might be coming down with something. I’m going to head out.”
“Do you need us to drive you home?” Tori asks.
I raise my phone in the air. “I’ll get a Lyft.”
“Text me when you get home.”
“Will do.”
“And Eva?”
“Yeah?”
“Everything happens for a reason.”
I meet her troubled gaze and manage a wink to suggest I’m only moderately disappointed by Anthony’s departure. “So they say, Tori. So they say.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anthony
I’ve got a finger over one ear, trying to listen to my father explain why the power’s out, when Eva appears outside Muddy’s in the fucking dress to end all dresses. She can’t see me, but I sure as hell can see her.
“Papi, calm down. You probably just tripped a circuit breaker. Go down to the basement and check the panel.”
“It’s dark down there, mijo,” he says into the phone. “Mierda, my pastelón is going to be ruined.”
“You won’t be able to finish cooking if you don’t switch the circuit back on.”
He grumbles, but the squeak of the door tells me he’s braving it. He’ll do anything for his food. If I were being held hostage down there, though, I’d be shit out of luck.
“How are you doing?” I ask him.
“Don’t rush me. I’m moving as fast as I can.” More grumbling follows. “Got it. You were right.”
“As usual.”
He hangs up on me.
Laughing at my father’s good-natured impatience with me, I shove the phone in my back pocket and walk to the bar’s entrance, where Eva’s preoccupied with her own phone screen.
“Heading out so soon?” I ask her.
She gasps and recoils, almost getting wiped out by the door when a patron exits the bar. As I pull her down the steps and out of harm’s way, she asks, “What are you still doing here?”
“Still? I never left. Got an SOS call from my father, but everything’s fine now.”
A line appears between her brows. “I thought I saw you leave with the woman you met at the bar.”
Ah, the woman. Yes, that would have been an excellent plan. Instead, when she asked me if I was alone, I claimed that I wasn’t, pointing to our table and waving at Eva to emphasize my unavailability. The thing is, even though Eva and I aren’t together, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving the bar with someone else. Worse, I wasn’t inclined to anyway. Eva’s fitting herself into every nook and cranny in my brain and she has no idea. “Nah, she wasn’t feeling me at all. I guess my game wasn’t up to par.”
“Really?” she says, her pinched expression perfectly matching the strain in her voice. “Because that’s not what it looked like from where I was sitting.”
“You were watching us?”
She pouts at me as though she’s offended by the question. “No.”
And there’s that trace of vulnerability again. It contrasts starkly with her confident demeanor, and it’s that duality that has the capacity to bring me to my knees. It hints that I’m special to her, and being special to Eva is important to me. But I can’t be if I’m not vulnerable with her, too. Never mind that the thought of doing that makes me want to jump outside my skin.
I raise her chin. Reluctantly, she meets my gaze.
Focusing on her big, beautiful brown eyes, I gather the courage to tell her the truth. “Let’s try this again. The woman was interested. I wasn’t. The entire time I was speaking with her, my mind was pulling me in a different direction. Toward you. Now you try.”
She licks her lips and swallows. “I’m not sure why I was watching you two, maybe to remind myself that you’re looking for one-time hookups and I don’t fit the bill. But when I thought you’d left with her, I was disappointed.” She sighs. “I don’t know what to do with my feelings.”
“Neither do I.”
She throws her head back, leaving her delectable, kissable neck exposed for my viewing pleasure. “What’s the point of honesty if we remain in the same place we’ve been in since Day One?”
“If you think we’re in the same place as Day One, then you’re being dishonest with yourself again.”
When she lowers her head, I meet her stare, dizzy with the need to kiss her. But I don’t advance on her. If Eva and I are taking any more steps, she’ll be the one to initiate them.
“You’re disappointing me again,” she says. “I need you to be as dense about this as I am. Misery loves company, you know.”
“Let’s get your miserable butt home, then.”
She raises her phone in the air. “I requested a Lyft. I’m just ten blocks from here.”
“You c
an cancel it.”
“I can but I won’t.”
I tilt my head and watch her with a smug smile. “Because you don’t trust yourself alone with me anymore, right?”
She shoves me away. “What? That’s hardly what’s going on here.”
I pretend not to hear her. “You know, it’s really embarrassing how you’re always throwing yourself at me. Showing up at my doorstep. Begging me to take you everywhere. Calling all the—”
She rushes forward like she’s going to tackle me, but I sidestep the move, scramble behind her, and pull her into my arms, her back to my chest.
“Cancel the Lyft,” I whisper in her ear. “There’s no strings attached to a ride.”
With my arms still around her, she opens her phone, and after a few taps, cancels the ride. “Where’s your truck?”
“In the lot out back. I can bring it around.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll walk with you.”
We stroll behind the building, our arms brushing against each other since we’re so close. She spots the truck in the far corner of the lot and snorts. “The walk to my apartment is shorter than the distance to your truck.”
“Didn’t want it to get dinged. Drunk people are destructive assholes. If you’ll recall, I did offer to bring it around.”
She leans into me and pokes my side. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“I can always count on you for hard times, Eva.”
She walks a few steps before she gets my meaning. Then her eyes go wide, and she shoves me away. “It took me a few seconds to pick up on that one. I’m disappointed in myself.”
“I’m disappointed in you, too,” I say with a grin.
Eyes twinkling in amusement, she winks at me.
We walk the rest of the way in silence. When we reach the truck, I open the cab door for her and hang on to the frame as she climbs in. She doesn’t swing her legs in, though, so I can’t close the door. Instead, she places her feet on the running board and scoots to the edge of the seat.
