Taylor thought she recognized the woman from campus but couldn’t place her. She was probably another professor. The woman leaned in close, her shoulder brushing Charlotte’s. They looked... comfortable. Like they belonged in the same orbit.
Taylor’s shoved her hands in her pockets as she made her way toward the bar. The room felt suddenly crowded, the amber light too warm, the murmur of conversation pressing in too close.
Olivia was already pouring her drink before Taylor reached the end of the bar—a tall glass of Topo Chico with a fat wedge of lime and a generous pour of tequila over ice.
“On the house,” Olivia said, sliding it across the worn wood. “You sounded incredible tonight.”
Taylor managed a smile as she set the guitar case down. “Thank you.”
She took a long sip, letting the sharp citrus and smoky liquor cut through the fog in her head. The ice clinked against her teeth.
Taylor pulled herself up onto a stool, the leather creaking under her weight. She took another sip, the cold glass soothing against her palm, and let her eyes drift shut for a second.
But then she heard it—the low, warm timbre of Charlotte’s laugh, carrying across the room.
Her eyes snapped open.
Against her better judgment, she looked.
Charlotte was leaning forward, her head tilted just slightly as the other woman spoke. She was smiling, shaking her head, like she couldn’t believe what the other woman was saying or that Charlotte thought she was being ridiculous. She looked relaxed.Comfortable with her. Happy, even. Not like the woman who’d sat stiffly in her office a month ago, apologizing for running away.
Taylor’s chest ached in a way that wasn’t quite pain, wasn’t quite longing, but something in between that left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She turned back to her drink, fingers tightening around the glass. The ice had melted enough that the tequila had gone soft at the edges, the sharpness dulled. Just like everything else.
She hated that she cared.
Hated that part of her—the stupid, hopeful part—had spent the last four months wondering if Charlotte ever thought about her. If she remembered the way Taylor had kissed her neck, slow and reverent, like she was trying to memorize the shape of her while her fingers had slipped between her legs.
And now here Charlotte was, doing exactly what Taylor had told herself she would. Moving on. Living her life. Probably dating women her age who didn’t work behind bars.
Taylor took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her shoulders dropping. She wasn’t miserable. She wasn’t. But there was a strange, fizzy energy moving through her. Giddy and stupid and completely unwarranted.
Olivia wiped her hands on a clean bar towel and gave Taylor a slow once-over, her brows knitting slightly. “You okay? You seem... off.”
Taylor shrugged, her gaze flicking instinctively toward the back corner before she yanked it back. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
The bar had filled up in the last hour. A few familiar grad students were huddled around a high-top near the window, and a couple of older men were deep in conversation over whiskey and a game of cards at the next table over.
“You want me to get back there and give you a hand?” Taylor asked, nodding toward the taps. “Looks like it’s picking up.”
Olivia exhaled through her nose, relief flashing across her face. “God, yes. Noah called in sick, so I’m drowning back here. But finish your drink first.”
Taylor took another sip, and hoped that she wouldn’t have to witness that woman leaning in and kissing Charlotte. Taylor didn’t know what she’d do. She’d never thought of herself as jealous before, but there was no other word for the sickening twist in her chest right now.
15
The second bottle of Pinot sat between them, nearly empty. Sam’s knee bumped hers under the table as she shifted, still watching Taylor at the bar, still grinning like she had every intention of trying to pick her up.
“Are you sure she’s a student?” Sam asked, turning back, her dark eyes sharp even through the wine haze.
“Yes.” Charlotte kept her voice level, but her throat felt tight, like she’d swallowed something too large. “I’m sure. She’s in my class.”
Sam took a slow sip. “I can’t believe you just ruined this for me.”
“Ruined or saved,” Charlotte countered, forcing a wry twist to her mouth that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I could still go and talk to her. Tell her she has an amazing voice.”