Page 45 of Synced to Us

I scan the room, noting Wyn at the bar and the guys sitting near slowly shuffling away to give him space. Their glances at a new presence transforms from instant dismissal, to curious study, to lingering recognition. “Actually, I grew up in a town like this.”

Lucy straightens. “No way. You? The girl with the perfect hair and the high fashion clothing? I’m sorry, but I can’t picture it.”

Wyn’s roped into conversation with the men sitting closest to him, the enthusiastic gestures and back-claps indicating his hard-earned fame is appreciated in Dockside. I find myself smiling, but catch it and focus my attention on Lucy. “It’s true. I came from a town not much bigger.” I gesture to my head. “Imagine this face, but with heavy eyeliner, purple streaks in my hair, and mostly black clothing. Top the image off with my favorite studded belt, and you have my high school experience.”

Lucy’s eyes widen. “Nuh-uh. I totally see you as the most popular girl in school. Not the cheerleader kind, but the influencer kind, you know? The one with the amazing social media posts and tons of followers, both online and in life.” She adds wistfully, “The girl everyone wanted to be.”

I throw my head back as an honest laugh escapes my throat. It takes me a minute to catch my breath. When I do, Lucy regards me quizzically. If only I had the trust required to explain to her the hellish, parentless landscape I escaped from. “I’m so far from that it’s ridiculous. You’re the amazing, popular girl. Head cheerleader with the quarterback, homecoming queen, probably prom queen too, am I right?”

“All that and then some.” Lucy mimes celebration by giving a mini fist-pump into the air, but her gaze slides to the side. “Back then, I thought I’d done everything right.”

I angle my head. “And now?”

“Now, I have two beautiful children and a husband with a stable job.” But after a quiet pause, Lucy shakes her head. “Enough about that. Tell me: Did your parents freak when you dyed your hair and wore all that makeup? I swear, mine would’ve kicked my butt to the curb and changed the locks.”

My focus lowers to the table. Reluctance to share more about myself is almost on auto-pilot at this point. Where’s that drink? I look back to the bar, but Wyn’s gathered more fans. His face is lit up like Rockefeller Plaza as he regales them with his humor. A few females I didn’t clock when we entered have pushed their way around Wyn and hold up their phones up for selfies, which of course he goofs off for and has them bursting out with laughter.

I smile at Wyn’s sheer joy as he plays to the camera. He must miss this. Wyn’s likely the biggest celebrity Thicketville has, but everywhere else? Every other city? I don’t know how often he’s approached by fans anymore.

“Dee? Did I lose you?”

“Huh?” I turn my gaze back to Lucy. “Crap, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I get it.” She follows where my attention wandered. “He has that way about him, doesn’t he?”

“Wyn? N—” The denial was right on my lips. If it weren’t for my honed skill, I would’ve blown up our charade without a second’s thought. I have to be careful around Lucy, a woman who makes me too relaxed and at ease. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this comfortable with another female besides McKenna, and I’m not sure it’s a good thing.

“Yes,” I say, recovering. “Wyn’s a terrific guy.”

“You’re a lucky woman, but I think you know that.” Lucy caps off her statement with a smile, but it’s tight at the edges.

My ears perk at Lucy’s soft tone. If it weren’t for the gentle reminder from my conscience that I’m here as the perfect girlfriend, not a jealous one, I’d ask her about her and Wyn’s past. They had something—they must’ve, and I doubt Brad knows about it. If he did, I’m sure Brad would’ve brought up that sore spot in front of me by now.

And if Wyn wanted to tell me, I would’ve been privy to it, too.

That thought doesn’t sit well, the idea that Wyn had something special with this woman. Realizing I don’t like it because I want that woman to be me makes the nausea swirl even worse.

Lucy and I are prevented from talking further when Wyn and Brad arrive, each double-fisting drinks.

Brad sets down a drink for Lucy, but his eyes are on me. “Don’t blame me for whatever Winnie-boy got you. I assumed you wanted something pink and sweet like you girls always drink.”

Wyn comes up beside me, holding a martini glass with extra olives.

I cock my head at him, silently communicating my question. A martini? How do you know what I drink?

Wyn’s all smiles as he squeezes my shoulder, and says, “I’ve been to enough label parties with you to know your go-to sauce.”

It’s true I accompanied McKenna to a lot of Nocturne Court’s festivities, especially ones thrown by Emerald Spin Records. I landed them as a client at one of those parties. What I didn’t know was the attention Wyn paid to me or my drink of choice. After sipping it, he even got the brand of vodka right—Grey Goose.

Wyn takes his seat next to me, and I sip at the cocktail. The warmth I feel after swallowing isn’t solely due to the quality of the liquor.

Brad points at me. “Enjoy the stiff drinks, do you?”

I take the jab in stride, but share a look with Wyn. His expression seems to say, I’m sorry. For all of this. You should’ve escaped this morning.

My lips twitch and he finds my hand, a gesture I’m becoming all too comfortable with. Then, after staring long and hard at his brother, he kisses my forehead, his scruff rough across my skin, but his lips soft as velvet.

He pulls back sharply, like he thinks I might bite back. My eyes meet his. There’s the lightest tug in my belly, pulling in Wyn’s direction. It flows into my chest, swells my throat, and reaches my eyes in a single breath.

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