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Of course, at the time, I said,Why would I care about that, when I have you,and she laughed.River, you’re such a hopeless romantic. She must have known then it wasn’t going to last. She knew we were fundamentally incompatible. I didn’t see it. I saw too much of her light.
The way I do with Lexi.
Only Lexi is a million times more brilliant. Even though I’m older, wiser, more experienced, I’m still a planet in her orbit, powerless to resist her gravity.
“Are you a friend of Ms. Beau’s?” she asks.
Why would she ask that? I shake my head.
“Are you subletting a room with her?” Lexi sits up a little straighter. She smiles a little wider.
Wow. Okay, I get it now. She doesn’t recognize me.
She just sees me as a sexy stranger. I fight a grin.
Perhaps I should take offense—because I hold that little space in her memory—but I don’t. There’s something intoxicating about seeing myself through her eyes. I’m not the awkward dork who drew graphic novels instead of attending parties.
I’m a man Lexi Huntington would want.
It’s all there, in her blue eyes. That’s her gift, really. When she looks at you, you feel like the most important person in the world. How could anyone resist that feeling?
She doesn’t notice my lightheadedness. Or my wonder.
Maybe she’s used to it, though, having this effect on people. She must be.
The entire world falls at Lexi’s feet.
She continues, unmoved. “Staying at the Airbnb across the street?” She cups the side of her mouth with one hand and stage-whispers, “We’re not supposed to know, but I won’t tell.”
“No.” I barely get the word out. I’m too in awe.
Lexi is even more beautiful now, as a grown woman.
There’s something beyond the symmetry of her features and the curves of her torso. There’s a spiritual appeal to Lexi.
“But I’ve seen you around, haven’t I? You seem familiar…” She tilts her head to one side, trying to place me. When she doesn’t, she stands up and slips her feet into her pink wedges. “Do you want to come in? Have a drink?”
As if I would turn down a drink with Lexi Huntington. “Sure.”
“What’s your poison?” She smiles and moves toward the house, happy to have a task, a friend, a chance with her soulmate, too—
Okay, that’s probably not it. I’m enamored, not delusional. She doesn’t know the way I do, but some part of her sees it, too. The connection is there.
“Oh! Were you at Dad’s birthday?” she asks.
That’s one time, back when we were teens. I nod. Though she’s got to be thinking of a more recent birthday. Still, this is kind of fun, playing this game of “who am I?” with her.
“You work with him?” She studies my outfit again, likely trying to figure out why a guy who works for her dad’s company—the one that owns half the commercial property in the three surrounding cities and makes sure every strip mall wall is exactly the right shade of beige, and every lease goes to exactly the right-for-the-city client—would rock jeans and a T-shirt and a visible tattoo. “He’s out right now, but he’ll be here tonight for the party.”
Party?Tonight?“What are you celebrating?”
She plays with her sunglasses. “You’re not here to help set up?” she says instead of answering.
“No.”
I follow her steps toward the house.
Everything feels strange.
