Page 65 of Near Miss

They’re only a few tables away. She’s louder than usual, and her voice seems raspier. I can feel it against my skin, rolling down my shoulders all the way to my fingertips that clench against the perspiring bottle.

Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, lights illuminating the planes of her face, and pillowy cheeks pink against the night air.

Her sister sits beside her, holding up a phone that looks like it’s in the middle of a FaceTime call, and a perspiring ice bucket with a bottle of wine sits between them.

Greer leans forward, this sort of wistful expression on her face. “I’d just love to grow a liver that could grow itself, you know.”

“No,” Stella answers.

“None of you are listening to me.” Greer waves her hands in front of the phone before pointing at her sister. “I’m saying that there’s an unexplored area of regenerative medicine that could eliminate the need for living donations. Only one percent—”

Stella groans, drowning out Greer, and I wish she hadn’t. I could listen to her talk all night.

I take my hat off, running a hand through my hair, before flipping it backwards. I don’t really care who sees me—as long as she does.

It’s quickly become the highlight of my day when Greer sees me. Whether it’s when she opens her door for me, eyes like that peering up at me from the low light of her hallway, full lips in a soft smile. Or when she gets to my place, eyes always wandering around the towering ceilings of the apartment, the worn exposed brick, until they land on me.

She’d never admit it, but she’s always happy to see me. I can tell by the way her cheeks soften, how her nose wrinkles and she smiles more freely than she does anywhere else.

I feel a bit more worthy when she looks at me, because it’s never just a look. Not with a girl like that.

A girl I wish was a lot more than just a friend. I’d consider bringing it up again, but I’d rather not scare away the best thing in my life, so I’ll have to sit on that for a bit longer.

“What are you—” Nowak squints at me before following my gaze. “Who’s that?”

I shrug, take a sip of beer, but I’m smiling. “Just a girl I know.”

“Look at his fucking face!” He hits Pat in the shoulder of his throwing arm, only glancing sideways when Pat jerks it out of his reach. “Oh, sorry. But look at that little smirk. Just a girl, Davis, really?”

No. Not even close.

I tip my chin. “I volunteered with her at the hospital. She’s a transplant surgeon.”

Understanding dawns on his face, and he turns around in his chair, hanging off the back like a child.

“Willa, Kate.” Greer’s voice rises, and she shakes her head. “Neither of you are being helpful so Stella and I are going to hang up now.”

“Hey!” Her sister jerks the phone further from her grasp. “I wasn’t done talking to them.”

Pat winces, grips his jaw, and shakes his head. He leans forward with a poor attempt at a stage whisper. “Bit like you’re eavesdropping, man. Let’s just go over there.”

“She’s with her sister.” I shake my head.

But Stella glances over her shoulder, eyes going wide when they land on me. Her mouth pops open before it shifts into a delighted sort of grin. She smacks Greer’s shoulder and turns back to the phone, now propped up against the ice bucket. “Sorry, you two, we do have to go. Greer’s special friend is here.”

Greer turns, ponytail swinging across the back of her jacket, and she angles her head, eyes impassive as she studies me.

But she says my name with the faintest hint of a smile. “Beckett.”

I clear my throat and raise my bottle. “Dr. Roberts.”

Her sister makes a big show of hanging up the phone and grabbing extra chairs while she waves us over.

I wait for permission, because I only really care about whether Greer wants me over there, and one shoulder lifts in a shrug, like it’s nothing, and she turns back to her glass of wine.

It’s not nothing to me—to be invited into this small sliver of her personal life—and I don’t think it’s nothing for her either.

Pat pointedly walks to the other end of their table, avoiding the empty seat beside her.

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