“I’d rather jump off that bridge naked.”
Not a dancer. Good to know. “That’s one way to celebrate the new year.”
He chuckles into his drink, sipping slowly.
If I had a few more, I’d be out there with her. Unfortunately, sober Loren has no rhythm.
I’ve been told drunk Loren doesn’t either, but this has yet to be proven with hard evidence. Even if it were, drunk Loren wouldn’t mind. She’s impervious to judgment.
A breeze cuts through the crowd, finding its way straight through my sweater. I thought the chunky cable-knit would be warm enough but, like many things this week, I was wrong.
Should’ve worn a coat.
I glance up to find Elliott no longer staring at his gyrating date, but at me, his brow furrowed and a frown on his face. “Are you cold?”
“Nah. I’m good.” Alcohol would warm me right up, but since I offered to drive, I shall die on this frozen hill.
“Don’t be a hero, Loren. We still have two hours before the countdown.”
“I’m honestly fine.”
Rolling his eyes, he slips his arms from his coat, and I know what’s going to happen next because I’ve seen my fair share of movies but when he drapes his coat over my shoulders, my immediate reaction is a high-pitched squeal.
That’s right. I’ve gone full pig.
Elliott leaps back, spilling his drink all over his comfortable-looking boots.
I’d rather have those than his coat, to be honest. Not that I say as much.
I shall take my aching feet to my grave.
“What the hell was that? Are you part bird?”
“Shut up. You startled me.” Turns out, a jumpy Loren is even weirder than a calm one. Who knew? “You don’t have to give me your coat. You’re only wearing a long-sleeved shirt,” I say even as I hold my purse between my knees and slip my arms into the sleeves. The thing hangs off me, but it’s warm and smells heavenly.
This coat might be mine now.
“I dressed appropriately and wore a thermal top under this.”
“This is appropriate for the occasion.” Everyone knows New Years calls for sparkles, and I didn’t have a cute jacket to wear over this sweater. My warm, downy one would’ve looked ridiculous and covered my skirt.
I’ve heard “beauty is pain,” but what no one tells you is that beauty can be a frigid bitch, too.
“Are your feet hurting yet?”
“No.” This earns me a smirk, which I don’t like one bit. “Why don’t you go bother your date?” If she’s anything like her sister, who is currently wrapped around August like a sparkly pink blanket, I bet Elliott’s twin would be more than willing to keep him warm.
“Seems like she’s having more fun without me.”
She does seem to be having a lot of fun grinding between those two guys. Not sure why she’s wasting her time with them though. They’re not half as hot as Elliot. Objectively speaking, that is.
I bump my shoulder against his. “Jealous?”
“Of someone I just met dancing with other guys? Not in the least.”
Considering what I know about Elliott Grant, he doesn’t seem like the type to get too attached.
Unlike myself.
