Page 59 of Not That Into You

I take a deep breath and exit the bathroom, telling myself I’m calm and under control. I am as serene as a lake at the first light of dawn.

My foot snags on the hem of my dress, and I stumble forward and almost lose my balance before catching myself.

Heart pounding, I glance around before breathing a sigh of relief. No one seems to have noticed.

Smooth, Monica.

It’s definitely time for a drink.

My gaze wanders around the room until I realize I’m actually looking for Cameron rather than a fortifying beverage.

Briefly closing my eyes, I remind myself we are not a couple, this is a fake relationship, and I don’t need him by my side. In fact, I could use a break from him.

My fingers skim my lips.

I could use a break from thinking about that kiss.

My god, that kiss. I put a hand on my stomach as it dips and rolls. Cameron called it unexpected, and it was, but it was also unsettling. I kissed Cameron Stanhope, for crying out loud. And I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot where we were and was ready to wrap myself around him like a horny koala.

I let out a frustrated breath. How could I have allowed that to happen? Our relationship isn’t real, and the kiss was supposed to be for show—a family-appropriate cuddle, not the opening scene of a porno.

Obviously, we need to keep things strictly G-rated from now on, and kissing is definitely off the table.

I inhale slowly, only to catch the scent of Cameron’s cologne still lingering on my skin, which sends my pulse racing. Again.

Not good.

I look around, locate the bar, and lift my skirts as I head to my salvation.

The bartender makes me a vodka martini, and I smile in gratitude as I take the liquid courage and step aside. Taking a sip, my gaze travels around the room, finally landing on Cameron, who’s standing just outside on the patio, grinning broadly. My heart stutters, and I start making my way toward him until I see who he’s talking to.

Vanessa Threadstone.

The woman his mother was so keen to introduce him to. The woman his mother would rather see on his arm.

And who could blame her? They make a shiny, handsome couple. They fit perfectly together. Unlike me, Vanessa was clearly born to this world. She’s confident and gorgeous, easily holding the attention of not just Cameron, but a handful of others who’ve joined their conversation. Her acceptance in Cameron’s world is a foregone conclusion, while I clearly stand out as “other.”

Vanessa places her hand on Cameron’s arm and leans in to whisper something, causing him to throw back his head in laughter.

I suck in a breath and quickly look away, my stomach dropping.

Seeing them interact is good, a necessary dose of reality. They’re the two who belong together. Our kiss merely proved Cameron and I are like Mentos and soda—complete opposites that are explosive when combined. And in the end, a really bad idea.

Draining my martini, I place the empty glass on a nearby table before turning and pulling up short, coming face-to-face with Grace.

Cameron’s sister smiles like a predator surveying its prey. “Enjoying your evening?”

I get the distinct impression she knows all about Vanessa Threadstone and her mother’s machinations. And she approves.

I give her a fake smile. “I am. Thank you. And you?”

She shrugs. “These parties blend together at a certain point. You know what I mean?”

Of course I don’t. My fake smile returns.

“Oh, Monica.” Grace puts her hand on my arm, and it takes a considerable amount of restraint not to shake her off. “I don’t think you’ve met my brother.”

I bite my tongue. I have, of course, met her brother. Her brother Cameron. I know she’s referring to Archie, but even if Cameron’s attention is currently occupied by the perfect Ms. Threadstone, I still can’t help but feel offended on his behalf by how easily his family dismisses him.

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