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“Want a glass of wine before you go? I was about to open a bottle.”
Her eyes moved to the side for a moment, and then she shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I guess we have a good excuse to celebrate tonight.”
“The biggest excuse for me in nearly two years.”
“I’m glad I could be part of it.”
“Me, too, Wren.”
Our eyes locked. I could get lost in hers. As soon as I caught myself lingering a little too long, I forced myself to look away.
She smiled. “I’d always heard webbed feet were genetic. I guess now I have proof.”
“Can I see them?” I asked.
She looked down shyly. “My feet?”
“Yeah. I’m curious. Unless you’d rather not show me.”
“No. I’m not ashamed of them.”
She was wearing a dress, but she had on Chuck Taylors. She untied her shoe and slipped off her sock, displaying cute little toes with the nails painted light pink.
She lifted the two toes adjacent to her pinky. “See? It’s just the left foot.”
They were fused together, except for the very tips.
“That’s wild. Now I’ll have to pay special attention to Rafe’s so I can compare.”
She put her sock back on and slipped her foot back into her sneaker. Then she looked up at me.
The way she always looks at me. Deep into my eyes. It was a problem, mainly because of how much I liked it. It was fucked up that I got off on the fact that I knew I had an effect on her. The unspoken chemistry between us was as addictive as it was arousing. And I’d convinced myself that as long as I didn’t entertain it in any way, it was acceptable to silently enjoy the feeling of wanting someone and having that feeling reciprocated.
Jesus Christ. Wasn’t I supposed to open wine? I cleared my throat. “Let me get that wine.”
I ventured over to the other side of the kitchen. Tonight was special, so I popped open the bottle of expensive cabernet I’d been saving for the right time. After pouring us each a glass, I carried them over to Wren.
“Thanks.” She took a sip of hers. “How’s Adriana, by the way?”
I froze. I’d never told Wren the name of my friend with benefits and had no clue why she’d just asked me that.
I narrowed my eyes. “How did you know her name?”
“I have my ways.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and her. It’s meaningless.” My lip twitched.
Her cheeks turned red. “But you’re sleeping with her…”
Small beads of sweat formed on my forehead. “Actually, not for a while now.”
The last time I’d seen Adriana was just after Wren had first come over for tea. And I hadn’t seen her since.
I placed my glass on the counter and crossed my arms. “Seriously, though, how did you know her name?”
“Relax. A message just flashed on your phone while you were over there pouring the wine. It lit up, and I looked down at it. That’s how I knew her name. Sorry, I was just being nosy.”
My pulse calmed a bit. “You had me freaked out for a minute. I thought you’d had me followed or something.” I winked.
“Oh, like you did me?” she cracked.
I chuckled. “Good one, I have to admit.”
I grabbed the phone and looked at the message.
Adriana: I miss you. Which also means I miss your beautiful dick. It’s been too long.
Fuck. I cringed. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
“Why? I’m an adult. What does it matter?”
She had a point. Why did it matter? “It’s crude.” I shook my head. “That’s just…her personality.”
“So, this thing with Adriana… Is it good? I mean…the sex?” Her cheeks turned even redder.
“Why are we having this discussion again?” I asked.
She brushed the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass. “We’re supposed to be friends. Friends have these types of discussions.”
“I don’t ask you about your sex life.”
“I’d tell you what you wanted to know if you did. I’d tell you anything you wanted to know.”
I swallowed. “Why do you want to know?”
“I guess it’s just morbid curiosity.”
“Morbid. Why?”
“Because I don’t really want to know. But I still want to know.” She laughed. “You know?”
I did not want to fucking know what she was doing with that Sam guy. That was for damn sure. I suddenly wanted to rip his head off, and I hadn’t even met him. My feelings were a cross between protectiveness and raging jealousy, which was a bit surprising. I’d thought I’d accepted the fact that she was dating someone, but apparently I hadn’t.
“Relax,” she said. “I’ll stop prying.”
Tense silence filled the air. She changed the subject. “Do you still watch my performances on the channel?”
Every fucking night. “Sometimes.”
“Is your favorite still ‘The Swan’?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“It always makes me emotional when I play it.”
“I can see why. Every time I listen to your music, I feel like more and more trapped emotions are released.”
