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I shrug. “You like champagne. It’s your birthday. I thought it’s what we were doing.”
Ellis looks down at her drink, throwing the entire thing back before grabbing mine, and I watch with wide eyes.
“Okay then,” I say with a chuckle.
“Makes me feel better about stealing. So, Stuart,” she starts. “I didn’t want to ask because I didn’t want to sound like an idiot. What the hell is an AV tech?”
My chest warms at the question, and I run a hand over my tie, hoping to smooth that feeling down. I don’t want it to be obvious how much I like her. I don’t evenknowher. “It’s an audio and visual technician,” I supply. “I operate audio consoles and the PA systems in the auditorium. Video playback at events. Interface when bands and outside acts come onto campus.”
“And are youpassionateabout it,” she asks, a clear dig at what I implied regarding her job earlier.
“No.” My tone is flat. “Well, I like when bands and acts come in. However, the thing pays well. It gives me a little stability. It’s my freelance stuff I enjoy.” I pause, remembering the song I worked on most recently. “As long as people are sending me good shit.” I clear my throat. “Shit, sorry. I shouldn’t be cursing. This is a classy event.”
She laughs. Depositing her empty glass on another passing tray. “I’m sure it’s fine. So, you like the music stuff. Play anything?”
My mouth quirks up. “A few instruments.” As shitty as it is to admit, Noah had a point. Women typically flock to anything that plays an instrument. And damn it if I don’t want Ellis to flock to me–if only a little.
“Main one?”
“Piano.”
A shy smirk passes on her lips as she looks down, turning away briefly.
“Enough about me. I have more questions for you, Birthday Girl.”
Someone walks into the hall from the double doors, speaking until the crowd quiets down to call us back into the ballroom.
“Looks like it’ll have to wait,” she whispers. “It’s showtime.”
Ten
Ellis
I’m clinging to Griffin like he’s my lifeline.
Sitting at a table surrounded by strangers who don’t know we aren’t supposed to be here has me leaning a little closer andtaking more risks–like when I grabbed his hand on top of the table while he lied his face off about his outlandish proposal.
I think he said something about an airplane writing in the sky while we were in the Bahamas. None of those things make sense because he also told the entire table, including Cass and Chad, that he works as a barista in a small local coffee shop three days a week and spends the other two days volunteering at the animal shelter.
Apparently, I’m an entrepreneur with a very successful business selling protein bars made with flour derived from crickets. It’s a significant protein source, and the hip rock-climbing gyms around the U.S. eat it up.
I’m rich.
He’s a freeloader.
I pull the flute to my lips, thankful for the cold water. After two glasses of champagne, I decided it was time to stick with something more sobering and the amazing meal the couple so graciously provided. Griffin tossed some cash into one of the wedding gifts, so my guilt about stealing has mostly subsided. The food also helped in my stay sober mission. Which is good because I need to be of sound mind and body to remember the massive amount of bullshit we are spewing.
Cass tilts her head back and laughs at something Griffin said, which makes sense because the man’s been charming the pants off the entire table, even the old couple that joined us. They’re apparently long-time friends of Angie’s parents.
“So, Ellis,” Chad says, licking his lips from across the table. The scowl he’s wearing would make an infant cry for sure. I shift in my seat uncomfortably, thankful when Griffin puts his arm around the back of my chair. We make a pretty convincing married couple. I assume that’s easy to do when reality is being postponed until the near feature.
“Yeah?” I say, setting my glass down.
“As Cass said, I own a successful golf club near Boston. It’s one of my many businesses.”
Griffin leans in, and I can feel his hot breath on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “One of his many businesses,” he mocks so low I’m the only one to hear him. I suppress a chuckle.
“Anyway,” Chad’s expression doesn’t change. “I’m wondering about these protein bars. This thing is really as successful as you say?”
