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“Well, there ya go. That just shows you she was upset. Needed her best friend and a shitload of booze to get her through the night. Was she upset to see you? Annoyed?”
“She seemed relieved. Maybe a little scared, because I was pretty angry. She actually looked like she wanted to say something to me.” I smile a bit, remembering how she’d zipped her mouth, locked it, and then threw away the metaphorical key. Then she’d walked backward into her apartment just so she could stare at me with that goofy, doe-eyed expression on her face. I wanted to be so mad at her in that moment, but she was so fucking cute that I’d nearly chased after her and kissed her, begged her to give me a chance.
“Sounds like she just needs a push in the right direction.”
“What do you mean? A push how?”
“Well, you know she likes you. I mean, we all fucking know. We have these things called eyes on our face, which makes it incredibly helpful for seeing this shit.” Wyatt’s eyes twinkle with sarcasm as he lifts a lazy shoulder and lets it fall. “She thinks she can handle seeing you with other people? Test that theory.”
Blinking at him, I let his words sink in. “Are you telling me to make her jealous so she realizes she wants to be with me?”
“Yup. That’s what I’m saying.”
“I honestly don’t know if that’s brilliant or the stupidest, shit advice I’ve ever received.”
His grin is a challenge as clinks his glass off mine. “Only one way to find out.”
The waitress, Gwen, appears at our table, a platter on each hand. “Hey there, handsome men. Food’s here.” She flashes me a pearly smile, pouty lips painted red, and slides our lunch onto the table.
Gwen’s been mad at me for the last few weeks, ever since I ignored her advances and she caught me kinda dirty texting with Claire. Not that I’ve cared in the slightest. But today she seems to have decided to put that all behind her.
My eyes flick up and down her body. She’s always been good-looking, which was why we had flirted every Friday, pre-Claire, when Wyatt and I came here for lunch.
But now I feel nothing when I look at her.
Her cheeks turn pink from my gaze. “Like what you see?” She bites her red lip and twists in her spot.
I meet Wyatt’s eyes and his brows quirk in a way that says here’s your chance.
My head already hurts from what I’m about to do.
But I open my mouth and do it anyway.
“Are you free tonight?”
***
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Avery
I already know I’ve made a huge mistake based on how anxious I am right now, my eyes darting around the ballroom as I adjust the button on my suit jacket for the third time, hoping like hell Claire’s still hungover from whatever the hell happened yesterday evening and has decided to skip tonight’s fundraiser.
“I’m a fucking asshole,” I mutter, feeling a lot like I just swallowed my heart after I spot a redhead who thankfully happens to not be the girl I desperately want to/do not want to see tonight.
Wyatt glances my way. “Already? She’s not even here yet.”
“I know, and that’s a problem. She’s not here yet and I feel like a fucking dick.” I push out a heavy exhale and my fingers plow through my hair, one hand scrubbing at my jaw. I’m beyond agitated right now. “I’m not sure this is the right way to go about this.”
“Just go with it, Beck. It’ll be fine. She’ll see you, get jealous, and that’ll be it. She’ll tell you how she feels and the whole thing will be over in two minutes.”
Sophie, Wyatt’s date, snorts. “For the record, Avery, I’m not on board with this. Yeah, it’ll probably make her realize how strongly she feels for you, but she’s also probably gonna want to punch you in the baby-maker. So…” She lifts her wine glass to her lips and tilts her head at me with the arch of one perfect brow. “Be prepared for that.”
I groan and rub the back of my neck. Fuck me. I also feel shitty for leading Gwen on. She’s been bouncing on her heels all night, bubbling with excitement. Normally, a girl knows exactly what I’m after—one night, no strings. Gwen and I didn’t have that discussion, and it’s not like I’m even after the sex tonight. She keeps pouting up at me, trying to wrap her arms around my neck. Keeping her at arm’s length is exhausting as hell.
Gwen catches my eye as she makes her way back from the bar, a glass of wine in each hand, which she waves wildly over her head, grinning. “Did you miss me?” she asks, sidling up next to me. She rubs her chest on mine and goes in for a kiss. I turn my head and she gets my cheek.
Wyatt nearly spits his drinks out and Sophie hides her snicker with an exaggerated cough.
