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“About what?” I say, referring to the question she asked.
Jude’s got a napkin up around his nose like he’s blowing it—but he isn’t. He’s hiding his laughter. Coco’s stare turns into a glare, but she doesn’t address what I’ve just done. No one does.
“Appetizers,” she says through gritted teeth.
I lift my glass to her before taking a drink. “I’m all for them.”
We order our food, and I calm my nervous energy a little when Beanpole decides to tell Annie all about the time he visited Sugarloaf Mountain in Brazil.
“Mer,” I say, though she’s listening to Beanpole too.
She turns her head, looking at me for the first time since we sat down at this table. “Yes.” She scoops some hair behind one ear, and somehow it sends over a waft of that familiar coconut. I take in her sweet scent. I’ve been deprived of it for weeks–and her face, her eyes, her nose, her lips. If she were to smile wide enough, a small dimple would appear on her right cheek.
“When did you get your own place?” Number twenty-two. What else has she done?
“Just this week.” Her gaze falls from mine to the table. She blinks, willing herself to find my eyes again.
“That’s great,” I tell her. “I can’t believe it. Already.”
And then, we are interrupted. This daddy-long-legs isn’t only self-absorbed, but he has no manners. “Meredith, give me your hand,” James says, holding out his hand for hers as if we weren’t in the middle of a conversation.
Meredith turns away from me, taking her light with her.
“I spent some time with this Amerindian tribe. They taught me to read palms.”
Meredith chuckles, and sure, she’s grinning, but that dimple doesn’t show. She isn’t buying his crap—right?
“Really?” she says.
“Oh, yeah.” He leans in so that his nose is inches from Meredith’s. “I can tell you things about yourlovelife, all from the lines on this palm.” He scoops up Meredith’s hand—she never did give it to him—and runs a finger down the center of her palm.
What a jack-weed.
And Coco calls me a dummy.
My body moves as if it has its own agenda. Sure, it’ll inform me later, but right now it’s on a mission.
I scoot my chair out, scraping it along the tiled ground, but everyone is so busy watching James read Meredith’s palm they don’t even hear me. I snatch up my glass of water, walk behind Meredith, and stop at James. It’s not even a question. It’s more of an instinct. I lift my glass and dump every ounce of its contents down the collar of James’ back. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
“Well, shoot,” I say, but I can’t lose the grin plastered to my face.
“Whooo,” James wiggles in his seat. He drops Meredith’s hand and reaches his long fingers down the back collar of his shirt.
“So sorry, man. Here,” I say, scooping him up beneath the arms as if he were a child. “Let me help you take care of that.”
“Whoa,” James says, his mouth forming an O. “Whoa!” He shakes and more water seeps through the back of his shirt. Ice clinks together inside of his tucked-in dress shirt.
“Levi,” Coco growls, but she’s also trying to hide a smile. My sister and I may not have grown up together, but I know her.
Meredith blinks up at us, and while I see her through my peripheral, I don’t look straight down at her. I focus on Beanpole.
“Typical, Levi,” Annie grunts, but I’m not about to let comments from Annie Archer skew my attention.
My eyes are on Mr. Handsy. I snatch hold of his upper arm, my grip tight, unwilling to let go, and walk James down to the bathroom.
It’s a one-bathroom stall, but I walk in with him anyway.
“Hold it,” he says, one hand out. “I got it. I can take it from here.”
