Page 47 of The Kiss of Deception

As he hurries away, I let my gaze dart around to decide where to next. Circles close in on themselves with whispers, heads of smooth hair fluffed and curled to perfection set in my direction. The answer winks at me from the far corner of the room.

I hop on a barstool, greeting the cute bartender with a buzz-cut and tattoos peeking out from underneath his shirt all over his neck.

He grins back at me. “What can I get you?”

“Anything with a high alcohol volume.”

“They got to you this quick?” The owner of the question takes a seat on the neighboring stool with no judgment, only curiosity—perhaps assessment.

“I would argue it’s for their safety.”

“You do look like you could freeze them with a look.” She hums with an approving nod. “You’re the newbie. No one likes the newbie. They’re trying to figure out which kind of threat you are. Until they decide you’re not one, though, I’m afraid you get the mean girl treatment.”

“So this is the typical high school drama I’ve been missing?” I reach for the glass that Cute Bartender sets on top of a blue coaster. “Delightful.”

“It’s the first time Miles has brought a girl around. Most of them are nice. Some are nice but have… a crush. A dream.”

“And Miles is a dream.”

Something tastes sour in my mouth. I wash it with a gulp of my drink.

She shrugs, running her fingers through her ponytail of long braids, deep brown skin glowing under the lights of the bar.

“Who are you here for?” I ask.

The bartender tops off her glass, and she lifts it. “The free drinks.”

I arch a brow as she takes another sip, awaiting her answer.

“Gus,” she relents. The goalkeeper. “My mother married his uncle,” she clarifies, avoiding eye contact for the first time to fiddle with the stem of the glass. My journalistic curiosity is sparked but I refrain from prodding.

“Zoe.” I tip the tumbler in her direction.

She hits with a click. “Aaliyah.”

We smile as we dip our toes in alcohol, our toast cut short by a haughty voice.

“Well, hello.”

Aaliyah and I share a look before turning our attention to the blonde.

“Hello,” I return simply.

I swivel on my stool to face her, presenting her with the perfect angle to assess me. I don’t think I passed.

“So you’re the famous girl Miles has been pining for. Underwhelming.”

I mirror her, though no trace of disgust or disdain filters through my features, only boredom and apathy. It seems to kindle her contempt.

“Are you not going to answer me?” She bares perfect white teeth at me, twirling a straight lock around a pointy nail.

I wait one, two, three seconds before giving a slight tilt to my head. “I didn’t hear a question in there.”

Aaliyah remains in the corner of my sight, content to sip her drink with keen attention and mild amusement. Long-legged blondie flares her perfectly symmetrical nostrils, which I’m only slightly envious of, but her gaze snags on something above my head and her sneer twists into a smirk like the cat caught the canary.

A beautiful brunette with the longest lean legs engages my boyfriend in a cheery conversation. Her shy smile tells a story her bold hands don’t corroborate as they greedily grope his bicep. Miles flashes his dimples and she swoons. Like he’s the sun, everyone who enters his orbit is destined to melt at his feet.

So that is why his two minutes turned to ten or twenty.

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