“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” With her focus on her suds-covered hands, I watch her. I watch the way her lips twitch as she congratulates me. The silky locks of hair neatly tucked behind her ear, exposing the small diamond stud standing out like sparkles of starlight. The slope of her jaw and how it trails down a narrow hollow before connecting to the column of her neck. Even the delicate chain dangling a gold butterfly that rests on her collarbone. My hands, wet and soapy from the task at hand, starts to itch with the need to readjust her necklace so the clasp rests at her nape.
Her arm brushes against mine, and she looks up at me. Water sloshes between us when she reaches for a new plate and her temple nearly brushes against my chin. “Hopefully you can play basketball better than you can pronounce ‘monsieur.’”
My brow shoots up. “I can pronounce‘mon-sur’just fine.”
She giggles. “It’s‘me-syer.’The ‘n’ is silent.”
“That’s what I said.”
She rolls her eyes and nudges me with her elbow.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Teeny
NOW
My mouth feelslike the Sahara. It’s dry and cracked and sandy. Ugh, and disgusting. And my neck. It feels like someone glued my ear to my shoulder, causing a serious—and a little worrying—knot to form right where my neck and shoulder connects. I don’t remember the last time I’d slept this uncomfortably. It was probably during a weekend getaway to Grace’s grandparents’ cabin in Big Bear back in college when I was left sleeping in a recliner while Grace dozed off on an inflatable bed. My head feels like it’s been squeezed and wrung out with sunlight and dehydration.
This is exactly why I don’t drink hard liquor.
“Ughh…”
“Good morning.”
I bolt from my prone position, pushing my hand into the cushion to sit upright. When I look over my shoulder to the kitchen where the deep, velvety voice came from, I see Everett.
“What are you doing here?”
He lifts a mug that says “World’s Best Dad” in dark bold print to his lips, taking a loud, obnoxious slurp. “Having some coffee,” he answers casually. “You want some?”
I stumble off the couch, smoothing out my shirt that’s ridden up my torso, and stomp toward him. “I mean, why are you still here? Why didn’t you go home last night?” I hiss.
He casually shrugs. “I drove your car.”
“And you couldn’t just Uber back to your hotel?”
“Actually, my car’s at Josh’s,” he explains, looking too relaxed for my liking. “So, I was wondering if you could drop me off.” He takes another long sip and the rattling of the coffee slurping through his lips drives me near insanity.
“Absolutely not,” I answer. “You need to call Josh to come pick you up or order an Uber or something.”
“Is this how you treat your guests?”
“Everett,” I argue, taking the cup from him and gently placing it on the counter. “Now. You need to leave now.” I round to his back and start shoving him toward the door.
“I can’t even finish my coffee?”
“No!”
“Teeny!” His voice comes out all high-pitched and whiny, and I’d probably find it a little amusing if it weren’t for the situation at hand.
“Seriously, Everett. You need to go. Sadie’s going to be home soon from her friend’s house, and youcannotbe here when she gets home.”
He swipes my phone off the counter as he walks by it and shows me the screen. “She texted ten minutes ago. She mentioned something about a movie? Said she’s going to be home in the afternoon.”
I take my phone from him. “Are you going through my phone?”
“The message just popped up when I was making coffee.”
