Page 87 of Eye of the Beholder

“That’s tacky, Cohen,” she says. But her expression isn’t condemning or judgmental. There’s just a small smile playing at her lips.

“I agree,” I say. I hesitate. Then I go on. “I used to be sort of self-conscious. About this”—I touch my scarred lips—“and…you know. Kissing with it.” I can feel my face turning red. I already regret telling her this. “So I ended up doing a lot of kissing.” I shrug. “Sort of to prove to people that I could, or something.” I swallow. “It’s stupid, I know. Thus the no more drinking.” I pick up two of the cups, go behind the wet bar, and dump the lemonade in the sink there. I rinse the cups and fill them with water instead. I hand her one of them.

She takes the cup, watching me. “It’s not stupid,” she says. Then, maybe sensing my intense desire to change the subject, she says, “I like carrying a drink at social functions. That way if I see someone approaching me, I can just take a big drink and they can’t ask me anything because my mouth is full.”

I grin at her, glad to have moved on from the drunk-kissing conversation. “A solid plan.”

She smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know. I—”

“Mina!” Jack comes through the crowd, smiling at us. He gives her a once over and then says, “You lookgood.”

She turns bright red. “Thanks,” she says, looking uncomfortable.

I feel a stab of annoyance. Is that all he talks to her about? How good she looks?

Jack turns to me. “Doesn’t she look good?” He’s not completely drunk yet, but I wouldn’t call it sober, either. He gets pretty blunt. Most of the time that’s how I can tell. I used to find it amusing. Tonight it’s rubbing me the wrong way.

I clear my throat. “Yep.” Now I’m uncomfortable, because even though I’m staring at my drink, I can feel Mina’s eyes on me.

“Your legs look amazing,” Jack says to Mina. He swivels to me. “Don’t her legs look amazing?”

“Yep,” I say again. I take a drink of my water. When it’s gone, I pretend like it’s not; I fake a few more sips.

“I’m going to play pool,” Jack says. “Make yourselves at home.” He leans forward and kisses Mina on the cheek. Then he turns and disappears into the crowd again.

When it’s finally too ridiculous to keep pretending there’s water in my cup, I look up. I’m startled to see Mina watching me.

“What?” I say.

She gives a little smile. “How long has that drink been gone?”

I can’t help it; I smile back at her. “Since he talked about your legs.”

“About how amazing they look?” she says, her smile teasing. But under her smile is something a little uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” I say. I hesitate. Then I go for it. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says automatically. “He just—yeah. I’m fine.”

I don’t answer, knowing that if I give her a second she might elaborate. Sure enough, a beat of silence later she says,

“He just keeps telling me how beautiful I am.” She’s staring determinedly at the cup in her hands.

“How rude of him,” I say. There’s a weird tangle of feelings in my gut, and I push them around, prodding, trying to figure them out. “He should never compliment you.”

Mina rolls her eyes, but my words have had the intended effect; the corner of her mouth quirks. “It’s not that he says those things. It’s that most of what he says is a variation on that sentiment.”

“I did notice that,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

Mina shrugs. “I mean, I appreciate it. Of course I do. Sometimes it just doesn’t feel genuine. Whenyousaid I was beautiful, you were completely sincere. It wasn’t just flattery.”

“I don’t remember saying that,” I say, my voice airy. As a matter of fact, I do. But I know she’s going to see through my lie in no time.

“Yes, you do,” she says, swatting my arm and grinning. “You said it in the hidden room of the haunted asylum.”

“I am not having this conversation,” I say, but I grin back. I gesture to her drink. “Are you done with that?”

“Why? Looking for more fake water to drink?”

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