Page 21 of Smooth Talk

She nods and accepts. “Thank you.” She quickly gulps down half the glass.

She’s looking around. For an escape, no doubt. Then her eyes dart back to my face and we hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds. It’s intense. She hasn’t said anything really, technically two words, but her eyes are expressive. A slight blush is beginning to creep into her cheeks. Tension is radiating off her in waves and I hate that I’m the cause of it. I’d like to put her at ease. Tell her how beautiful she looks tonight. Maybe ask her to dance later. But I don’t say anything, charming or otherwise. Why do I become a mute idiot around this woman? Lost in awkward contemplation, we momentarily forget about the third member of our little party until she makes herself known.

“Grayson, surely you meant to grab me a glass as well as Penelope.” She’s reaching her hand toward mine. I most definitely did not mean to give her anything besides a water and a solo limo ride home. And is she just being a bitch to Poppy or is she really too drunk to remember her name?

“There wouldn’t be time to drink it,” I tell her, and she looks at me with confusion. I finish my glass with a gulp and nod to Poppy, “If you would excuse us. Dinner will be served shortly in the great room. An usher will show you to your seat. I hope I have the opportunity to speak with you later.”

There, I spoke actual words. I could’ve been more flattering, but now isn’t the time. It should make me feel better knowing I’ve gotten out of this as politely as possible but seeing the small smile she gives (the one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes) before she turns away, sends a chill of worry up my spine. Walking away from her now is hard. I feel like I’ve insulted her, and I want to stay and apologize and say all the right things, to make her smile a real smile instead of the bullshit one she just gave me. But I have a responsibility to my family first; I can’t let Presley ruin this evening.

I guide my date toward the door, crossing my fingers that this is the only issue I need to resolve tonight. My mother’s warning about bringing Presley blares in my brain. Once again, she saw what I didn’t, and because I didn’t listen to her sage advice, I may have just blown any chance I had with Poppy. That thought turns my stomach. I can only hope she gives me a chance to explain myself. I’m getting Presley out of here before she can say or do anything else that will embarrass my family, her family or herself.

“I really need another drink,” she whines in her cringingly high-pitched, nasally Southern accent. I’ve never found her voice annoying before, but right now it’s grating on my last fucking nerve. It’s not fair to solely place the blame on Presley for the shit show in there earlier. I’m mad at myself too. I should’ve never allowed our relationship to progress to this level. I know better. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her earlier and realized she was drinking too much too quickly. And I should’ve never asked her to come with me tonight. It’s a mistake I won’t be making again.

I ignore her and continue walking down the stairs until we’ve reached the round drive at the base. Presley really isn’t this bad. Most of the time she’s quite pleasant. Right now, however, she’s trashed. And I suspect she’d already had a few cocktails before I picked her up. Thomas has pulled the car up and is opening the back door. Presley smiles at me and drags me down as she climbs into the back seat.

“Uggh, I thought we’d never leave this stuffy old party. Now I get you all to myself, and no annoying Ariel look-a-likes can bother you. Come on,” she’s still tugging my arm. For someone her size, she’s deceptively strong. And I have an answer to my earlier question; she was being a bitch to Poppy because she’s jealous or she thought I’d wanted her to isn’t clear yet. “I won’t bite… unless you want me too,” she adds saucily. Fuck, this is about to get ugly.

I gently peel her hands from my arms and take a step back; “Presley, I have to give a speech after dinner. I can’t leave with you. I can’t disappoint Mimi like that. You should go home and sleep it off. You’ve had a lot to drink tonight.”

“You mean… Y you you’re not coming with me?” she stutter-screeches.

“I can’t.” It’s not a lie. I really can’t leave now, but I also don’t want to. There’s no need to be cruel. Our parents are friends and they’d hate if there was bad blood between their children. Hopefully, this will blow over tomorrow when she’s sober.

“This is because of that mermaid bitch isn’t it? I overheard O tell Mase you liked her.”

Well, fuck. she is jealous. I need to end this now, before things get worse. Presley’s seething; her face is almost the same color as her dress. “O should mind his own damn business,” I say under my breath, my irritation growing. “Look, Pres, I really do have to get back in there. My mom will kill me if I don’t give that speech. You know how important this night is to her and Mimi.” She gives me a look like understanding. She, at least, gets familial obligations.

“We’re friends, right?” I ask, waiting for her to nod before I continue. “I don’t think we should attend any more of these events together. It’s only going to hurt our friendship in the future. And in turn hurt our fathers’ friendship,” I say, extricating myself from her grasp again and shutting the door. “I think it’s best if we’re just friends from here on out. You’re a great a girl Presley, and you deserve more than I can give you.” God, I’m fucking this up; I’m usually so much better at this. Then again, I’m usually not friends with the women I hook up with. I’m such an idiot.

It’s probably better if I stop talking now and let her go, so I nod to Thomas, signaling for him to leave. As calm as Presley was a second ago, my last words seem to have fired her up.

She rolls down the window and yells, her face contorted, chest heaving, “I can’t believe you’re giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. You’re right; I do deserve better. You’re as bad as my father! Always telling me what I deserve, how I need to act and what he expects! I never get to have any fun! Oh, and we’re not friends, Grayson! You have to like someone to be friends with them, and I hate you. You’re the worst! And you can forget about us ever having sex again; I can’t believe you’d do this to me! No one puts Presley in a corner!” Technically, I put her in a limo. But I get it. She’s livid. We should have never crossed that line. I realize now what a huge mistake it was.

“Good night, Presley. Get some rest.” Fingers crossed she wakes up sober and less petulant tomorrow. Presley can be spiteful when she imagines herself insulted. Daddy’s girl first. Mean girl second. I know better than to get on her bad side. Which is why I let her rant and rave and keep my mouth shut. One wrong word can set her off. I’ll have my assistant send her apology flowers on Monday if everything isn’t straightened out by then.

I back up a few steps when Thomas starts to drive away. I can still hear her yelling about my ‘tiny dick’ when they make their turn at the end of the driveway. Thankfully, no one is around to hear her tirade. God, please don’t let her get on social media. Even drunk, Presley should know better. I don’t need bad press and neither does her father. I don’t care what people think about the size of my dick. I know it’s not tiny. And, so does she, for that matter. But I’d rather it not be the topic of conversation on Twitter or at my family’s gala for heart disease. Something that ended my beloved grandfather’s life much too soon.

I feel sorry for Thomas. I can only imagine what the next twenty minutes of his life will look like. And sound like. God, please don’t let him quit. Dad will never forgive me. I swipe my hand down my face and reenter the house. I’ll eat dinner, give my speech, then see if I can smooth things over with Poppy. Sweep her across the dancefloor and off her feet.

My mother kisses my cheek and hands me the microphone. We’ve just finished dinner and now my family is on stage doing the requisite thank yous to the 200 people that spent $2,500 a plate to support the cause tonight. To my abhorrence, she had Poppy seated next to Oliver at the table beside to mine. While I was interested in conversing with some of my tablemates, I was constantly distracted. My attention—continuously pulled in their direction every time I heard her sweet soft voice. Or her melodic laughter. The sound both feminine and genuine.

She giggled at something Oliver said and I was allowed to witness her entire face light up, her eyes sparkling. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I need to get to know her better. I want to be the one to make her laugh. To watch her gorgeous face light up because of something I’ve said. The green-eyed monster is alive and well tonight, and though it’s a new sensation for, I know exactly what I want to do to my brother if he doesn’t stop flirting. I can plan that later, right now I have a speech to give. Priorities.

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