Page 67 of Angel Eyes

The memory of Lily’s radiant smile swam before my vision, and I pressed my eyes shut to block it out. Last night, I had spent hours replaying the events from the dinner party in my head. Gabriel and Lily side by side, smiling and laughing, perfectly at ease with one another. No pregnant pauses or awkward moments like the ones that sometimes existed between me and Gabriel. Theirs was an open affection. It was effortless and uncomplicated.

“Hey, you good?” I glanced up to find Simone staring at me, a look of concern forming behind her brown eyes as she shimmied out of the dress, letting it fall in a pool around her feet.

“Yeah,” I said with a tight smile. “I just had a late night.”

She brightened. “Ooh, was it the good kind of late night? Like the kind that involved getting naked and sweaty with a certain artist?”

I rolled my eyes, a real smile touching my lips. “You know, believe it or not, we spend most of our time together with our clothes on.” The second the words left my mouth, my eyes flew wide as I realized what I’d said. Maybe Simone wouldn’t notice—

“Say what now?”

I groaned inwardly. If I could have fabricated a lie plausible enough to remove the manic gleam from her eyes, I would have whipped that baby out like a winning bingo ticket. But after eight hours of mindless television, I had to confess my mental acuity wasn’t the sharpest.

“It was only one time and—”

Simone squealed, pulling me into a full-body hug even though she was half-naked.

“Juliet, that’s fantastic.” She clasped my arms, beaming at me like a proud mama. Turning her back to me, she reached for another dress to try on. “Just remember to invite me to the wedding, okay? And I wouldn’t say no to being a bridesmaid either.”

“Simone, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

She snorted, hoisting up a pale green bodycon dress. “Oh please, I saw the way he was looking at you at the club. Last time I checked, friends don’t eye-fuck each other across the table.”

I choked on an inhale. “Please never say that again.”

“Oh, Juliet, you’re so innocent. Always the perfect lady.” She sighed, dropping her gaze over her reflection. “That’s probably why he’s in love with you.”

My breath halted. “No, he’s not.”

“He is,” she said to my reflection. When I continued to stare at her, she huffed, giving me an exasperated look. “Seriously? It’s so obvious. First, he left Marlena high and dry to dance with you. Second,” she said, ticking off her points on her fingers, “he brought you to his super-secret-not-yet-open-to-the-public art gallery. Oh, and let’s not forget how he asked you out on a date after your bike tour—”

“Hey,” I said, pointing at her, “that was not a date. The restaurant wasn’t even open.”

She gave me a bug-eyed look. “That’s your takeaway?”

I left Simone alone in the dressing room and pulled out my phone, flipping through the messages Gabriel had sent last night.

Saturday 9:38 PM Are you okay?

Saturday 10:02 PM Hey, did you make it home? If you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine. Just please let me know you’re all right.

Saturday 10:53 PM Guess you’re sleeping. At least I hope so. I’ll be up for a while in case you need anything.

Saturday 11:15 PM I never should have left you alone.

A guilty pang reverberated in my chest. I hadn’t responded to a single one of his texts or calls all day. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—quite the opposite. But if last night had shown me anything, it was that things between us couldn’t continue the way they had been. I needed clarity, a definitive line in the sand. Because I didn’t think my heart could survive another six weeks of us pushing the bounds of friendship, only to find out I wasn’t the right person or that there was something between him and Lily. I would rather know before things went too far.

Before I got hurt.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I noticed the top bun I’d thrown my hair into was now on the verge of collapse. I pulled it loose and rooted around in my purse for a brush. After removing the tangles, I tucked my hair behind my ears, looking marginally more presentable. Though, there wasn’t much I could do about the dark circles under my eyes or the faded sweatshirt and yoga pants I was wearing.

The door swung open, and Simone emerged from the dressing room carrying two items—a fuchsia cocktail number and the navy evening gown.

“You’re getting the blue one?” I said, eyeing the shimmering fabric slung over her arm.

“Not for me, for you.”

“Wait, what?” I hurried after her as she hightailed it to the register, smacking the dresses down in front of a saleswoman before spinning to stand between me and the counter, effectively boxing me out.

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