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“But you’re missing work. Aren’t Fridays one of your busiest nights?”
He scowls as if I missed the entire point. “Work isn’t going anywhere. She only has one opening night.”
My heart pinches. “Thank you.”
His jaw tightens, as if my gratitude irritates him. But there aren’t a lot of men who’d show up to a high school play to support their ex-girlfriend’s sister. Even if it’s to see me, there are easier ways to make contact than sitting through two hours of high school theater—no matter how amazing the performance.
Then again, Dex isn’t just any man. He’s shown me that over and over.
Maybe I need to open my heart and listen.
DEX
Saying yes to attending Libby’s play seemed like a good idea when she reached out to remind me about it the other day. I should’ve considered it meant I’d be in close proximity to Emily. It had been hard enough tearing myself away from her at Grinder’s party. I’m not sure I can do it again.
I run my gaze over her and bite back a groan. Plaid dress in shades of green, tan, and red. The smooth fabric fits and flares over her body in all the right places. A shiny red belt cinches her waist tight, reminding me of our first date. Hell, it might even be the same belt. Matching shiny red heels bring her a little past my chin. Easy kissing range. Her red hair’s waved and curled—a flattering frame for her face. Gold bracelets on her arm gently clink together every time she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear.
Finally, she looks up and meets my eyes—more like catches me checking her out.
“So, when did she invite you?” Emily asks with all the casualness of a brick.
“Uh, she asked me a while ago.” I cock an eyebrow. “You were standing right there.”
She flushes pink and I fight the urge to smirk.
“And she texted me a few days ago to remind me of the date and time,” I add.
“She did, huh?” Emily’s mouth screws into a skeptical pout.
“She didn’t tell you?” Libby’s more devious than I suspected. Part of me hoped Emily had encouraged her sister to extend the invitation because she wanted to see me. Apparently not.
“No.” Her gaze searches the crowded lobby. “After Lincoln’s party I had to explain to her that we’re not…together.”
Just the thought of that conversation twists like a knife in my chest, wiping the humor from my face.
“Libby wasn’t happy about it,” Emily continues, squinting up at me with playful indignation. “I’m starting to think she likes you more than me.”
“I doubt that.” But nice to know Libby’s on my side here. I’m buying that kid a car when she gets her license. “How’s she doing?”
“Better every day.”
“Good. How’s she gonna do the play with her cast?”
Emily lets out a sweet huff of laughter. “Carefully.” She gestures toward the stage. “The director’s been really great about helping her.”
“That’s good. I was worried they’d give her part away or something.”
“Oh, no.” Emily shakes her head. “She’s not relinquishing it without a fight. Trust me.”
The lights flicker once. Then again.
“Um, I promised Libby I’d sit near the front.” Emily reaches for me like she’s going to take my hand but ends up awkwardly hooking her finger around my wrist instead.
I should be the better person and throw her a bone, maybe take her hand, but I stare at the spot where she’s touching me and let her stew in the awkwardness for a moment.
“Will you sit with me?” She hesitates and flicks her troubled gaze up at me. “Can we sit together?”
I run my gaze over her again. I’d rather have her sit in my lap. “Sure.”
She turns, the full skirt of her dress sweeping against my leg, and marches into the auditorium and down the aisle toward one of the front rows.
A man standing with his back to the stage stops Emily with a hand on her arm. Danger. He touches her like that again he might be walking out of here with a bloody stump tonight. Who the fuck is this clown?
“Would you like to sit with me, Emily?” he asks, nodding toward one of the two empty seats in the row.
I shift the flowers into my left hand, place my right arm around Emily’s waist, and stare at the guy without saying a word.
“Oh, no, thank you, though,” Emily says. “I promised Libby we’d sit up front.” This time, Emily links her fingers with mine and tugs us forward. “I’ll see you after the show,” she says over her shoulder.
We stop at the second row. Damn, it’s a narrow fit. Emily neatly gathers the full skirt of her dress to slide into a seat. Thankfully, she leaves the end seat for me, so I can stretch at least one leg into the aisle.
