Page 80 of On the Line

“And I don’t just mean the breakup. You’re practically glow—oh my god!” she declares with a swat of my arm, mouth opened in mock shock. Her voice drops, her tone conspiratorial, finger pointed at me in a circular motion. “Youarefucking someone, aren’t you?”

I guffaw into my wine glass, taking another long sip. “Maybe.”

Her face lights up, eyebrows high up her forehead as she squeezes my arm in glee.

“Is it …” She doesn’t finish her sentence but points her head to the kitchen and my stomach squeezes in nerves, knowing exactly who she’s referring to and howveryright she is.

Laughing, I shake my head. “No, it’s not Ozzy. Itoldyou nothing is happening between us.”

The lie doesn’t roll off my tongue as easily and smoothly as last time.

“Okay, sure,” she replies pompously, taking a sip of her dirty martini. “Maybe not now but you two are circling the same drain, bound to collide.”

“Poetic,” I say dismissively.

“Anyway,” she says, looking at me with a pointed look. “I will excuse you from keeping this from me if you tell me every single little detail right this second,” she urges, her chin falling back onto her open palm. “Who is he? What’s he like? And most importantly what’s thesexlike? Actually, let’s start with the last question, I’m much too invested.”

“It’s been, um …” My cheeks heat, not knowing how much I want to divulge. “New.”

She grins, looking at me squirm in my seat. “New?” she repeats with a small chuckle.

I shrug a shoulder, having a hard time holding her gaze. “Well, new to me at least. And um … eye-opening?”

Her jaw drops, her eyes twinkling with delight. She lowers her voice. “How kinky are we talking?” I choke on my sip of wine as she presses on, “Ropes? Paddles? A little bit of somno maybe?”

I blink. By her tone, I can’t tell if she’s joking.

I’m about to deny everything when I hear a familiar voice behind me.

“Looks serious, what am I interrupting?”

I startle, my shoulders jumping. Swiveling around, my gaze lands on Ozzy behind the bar, filling up a plastic container with ice and water from the soda gun. He’s still in his chef’s jacket, a few Sharpies sticking out of his breast pocket, blue bandana around his forehead.

I’m struck by his casual beauty and my throat dries.

“Cute nails,” Michelle points out. “Was your sister practicing on you again?”

Ozzy chuckles. “Yeah, getting real good at it too.”

My mind flashes back to the museum parking lot.

Soph painted them.

Sophia is hissister?

I begin to churn in embarrassment, recalling the unfounded jealousy I felt that day. But it’s cut short when Ozzy asks, “So? What were you two talking about before I walked up?”

“James is dating someone,” Michelle says with a conspiratorial laugh.

“Michelle!” I say, turning around in my seat, slapping her arm.

“Sorry,” she says unbothered by my outburst, holding her martini glass loosely in one hand. “Not dating.Fucking.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, dropping my face in my hands. The thought of Ozzy knowing I’ve been gossiping about us makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Oh, are you now?” Ozzy says, one eyebrow raised and a mischievous grin on his lips.

I pop my head back up as he walks closer to us, leaning his open palm on the bar. His gaze slides smoothly to meet mine. The faint dimple on his cheek, paired with the shinein his blue-green eyes settles my nerves, but I can still feel myself blushing.

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