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“Well, I don't know about magic,” I said, already walking away from my friend. “But I'm at least gonna know her name.”
CHAPTER THREE
Lennon
I should've been used to this by now.
The glitz, glamour, and million-dollar parties.
Yet I couldn't stop my eyes from gazing hungrily over the sparkling jewels and astronomically expensive designer clothes, worn by celebrities I vaguely recognized from where I stood. It was a lifestyle I knew well; Tarryn had been living it for enough time now. But I only stood on the sidelines, never allowing myself to fully immerse into her social circles. If only for the fact that I had nothing in common with these people and I knew better than to pretend.
Still, I enjoyed getting fancy and wearing the dresses Tarryn insisted on buying, even while knowing I'd only wear them to things like this. Just to spend a few cherished hours with my best friend.
They were few and far between these days, and I took whatever I could get.
“Okay, baby,” she said, pulling me up to the bar and clapping her hands against the glass countertop. “What are we drinking?”
“Oh God,” I groaned, remembering the last time she had talked me into drinking with her. The night had ended with my head in the toilet and Tarryn passed out on my parents' living room couch. “I don't know. Um …” I squinted, pretending I could see the rows of bottles behind the tuxedo-clad bartender. “What do you think?”
For every bit of confidence I lacked, Tarryn made up for it in spades.
Without hesitation, she reached out and laid a hand on the bartender's forearm. “Can I ask you a question?”
The lights shining from the shelves of bottles were painfully bright, and keeping my eyes open was a struggle. I barely noticed the twitch of his lips as he studied my friend with starstruck desire and lust.
“You can,” he agreed, folding his arms against the bar and leaning closer.
He was attractive, but not my type. Not by a long shot.
Tarryn, on the other hand?
From the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, I had no doubt she'd spend her night flirting with him … at the very least.
“What would you say is the best drink you can make?” she asked, letting her thumb graze the back of his hand.
“Thebestdrink?” He blew out a long, slow whistle, barely audible above the bump and thump from the DJ. Then, he said, “There aren't many Idon'tmake well …”
“Come on”—Tarryn leaned closer to the name tag pinned to his lapel—”James. Don't be cocky. What's your favorite?”
James chuckled, then said, “Okay. Well, personally, I'm a big fan of the boulevardier. If you're into—”
“There isn't much I'mnotinto,” she replied in her telltaleI want to go to bed with this mantone, and I struggled to stifle my groan and fight my grin.
“Okay then. One boulevardier—”
“Two,” she corrected, wrapping her arm around mine tightly.
His eyes volleyed between us, and he slowly nodded with understanding. “Coming right up.”
As he turned around to pluck a few bottles from the illuminated shelves, I rolled my eyes toward my best friend and said, “He thinks we're lesbians, you know.”
“No, he doesn't,” she said, smiling toward his broad back and narrowed waist. “He might think a threesome is in his future, but—”
“Oh, okay. That's fine then,” I replied sardonically.
“I didn't say wewould—”
She stopped speaking abruptly to widen her eyes and pull her lips between her teeth as her long fingernails dug painfully into my arm. I crumpled my brow and pulled away from her excruciating grip, about to ask what the hell that was for, when she said, “Hello there, Dylan.”
