I attempt a grin as I push Felicity’s face to the back of my mind.
She’s not my girlfriend. She never was.
So why can’t I stop thinking about her? Why can’t I stop wondering what she’s doing? Why am I picturing the little crease that appears between her eyes when she’s trying not to laugh, or the way she swings her hips to the beat as she hums a new melody under her breath? Why can’t I stop wondering what she’d say if she were the girl sitting beside me on that stool?
LA is not for me, she told me last night, grimacing.
She’d hate it here. She’d hate all of this. The pool no one’s swimming in, the flashy show of wealth, the snarky condescension being traded in every cluster of conversation. The drugs, the drinks, the superficial smalltalk.
It’s an introvert’s nightmare.
I’m pissed off that her opinion carries so much weight inside my head, when she’s not even here to voice it. I don’t know when her perspective started to matter so much to me. Whenshestarted to matter so much. I’ve never been the guy that has a problem cutting ties after sex. Leaving in the morning is practically my varsity sport. Hell, if I’m being honest, most of the time I don’t even bother to stay until morning — I’m out before the sheets are dry without so much as anI’ll call youor a kiss goodbye.
But last night… I didn’t want to leave. And this morning, when I woke up with Felicity wrapped in my arms, it took every goddamned ounce of strength inside me to climb out of her bed and pull on my clothes.
Walking away from her damn near killed me.
Staying away might just finish the job.
When the bartender finally appears in front of me, I shake myself back to reality. I order a double whiskey neat, and he glances at me with appreciation as he pours a few fingers of amber liquor into a tumblr and slides it over. I take a large swig the instant the glass hits my hand.
“I like this brooding James Dean thing you’ve got going on,” Becca says absently. “It’s a good act. Edgy. Sets you apart from everyone else.”
My brows lift. “Who’s acting?”
“You mean to say you’reactuallythis brooding?” She gasps in fake surprise. “How terribly non-zen of you.”
“Zen wouldn’t be in the top ten words I’d use to describe myself. Generally speaking.”
“That’s a shame.” Her head shakes. “LA is very big on zen.”
“Seems to me, LA is very big on making a lot of money and shoving it in other people’s faces whilepretendingto be zen.” I shrug and take another long swig of my whiskey. “Not sure anyone I’ve seen so far is zen for real.”
“Oh, man.” Becca laughs again like I’m the funniest person she’s ever met. “I can’twaitto see what Clay does with you. Like oil and water. Bette and Joan. Tay and Kanye. This is gonna begreat. Come on, let’s go find him.”
I make sure to ask the bartender to top me off before I follow her deeper into the party.
* * *
“There he is! Ryder!”Clay exclaims when we walk out onto the terrace. “How are you? Good? Oh, I’m so glad to hear it.”
Apparently, we’ve had a full conversation without my having to say a damn word. In his mind, at least. Clay is seated on a plush white sofa with a wine glass in one hand, his phone in the other. His brown hair is buzzed on the sides into a trendy undercut more popular with teenagers than most men in their early forties. Chris is sitting across from him, typing rapidly into his phone.
Of course.
I nearly snort — it’s the second time I’ve met this guy and we’ve yet to make eye contact.
“How was the flight? Good?” Clay lifts his glass in a toasting manner, grinning wide. “And I see you’ve already met Becca. By the bar, no doubt. She’ll drink you under the table, watch out! Hollow leg, that one.”
She throws her head back and giggles like a hyena. I thought her amusement was genuine the first time she did it, but the move is beginning to wear thin.
“I had to rescue him,” she says, plunking down beside Chris. “He looked absolutely miserable!”
“Well, we certainly can’t have that. Come, sit, sit.” Clay gestures to the free loveseat on the other side of the sleek glass coffee table. There’s a gas fire pit running through the center, spark-less flames burning in a low, orderly line. “Ryder, I’m just so thrilled to finally have you out here, where the real action happens! No more hiding in the sticks, playing dive bars, am I right?”
“It’s great to be here,” I say as I settle in, wishing like hell that I meant it. “Thanks for having us.”
“Us? Is your lovely partner here as well?”