Page 6 of She Used to Be Nice
Avery squinted at the couple. Through her tipsy blurred vision, they looked almost like a watercolor painting.
“We work together, too,” Pete added. “So it’s gonna be awkward on Monday.”
“What do you do?” Avery asked.
“I work in finance.”
Of course Pete was a finance bro. Avery should’ve known that the second she met him. The guy was wearing a fleece vest. No judgment, though; Avery loved finance bros. They never wanted relationships, since they were usually too busy working late during the week and spending their weekends in the Hamptons. But they were always down for a one-night stand, especially one with a girl who wasn’t interested in turning it into something more. Avery never had to worry about anyone catching feelings or having expectations; she could stop the inevitable disappointment and heartbreak that would follow if they got to know her, her shameful past remaining a door she could keep bolted shut.
Avery gave an amused grin. “A finance bro, huh? Classic.”
“Hey, I resent thebroaccusation,” Pete teased. Then he grinned back. “But yeah, I know it’s not original for Manhattan. At least I don’t live in Murray Hill. That has to count for something, right?”
“It does, for sure.” Avery wobbled a little in her seat. Was this stool as wonky before? She felt like she was on a boat. “I’ll give you more points if you haven’t been to The Gem Saloon in the last month.”
“Dammit.” Pete mock-slapped his forehead. “I lose. Although I actually spend a lot more time in SoHo. I like Kenn’s Broome Street bar, if you’ve ever been.”
“I haven’t. But SoHo’s near my office. We’re near Union Square. I do audience development atMetropolitan.” Distantly, Avery could hear her voice slurring, could feel her jaw muscles working overtime to help her articulate words. She hadn’t planned on getting so drunk, but she supposed there was no turning back now. She reallywasas irresponsible as her college friends thought, wasn’t she? She was still the girl who could put herself in the most compromising positions imaginable. She shouldn’t have drunk this much tonight, or that night senior year. Look where that got her. Just look.
“Metropolitanis an incredible magazine.” Pete sounded genuinely impressed. “I read it all the time. Very cool that you work there.”
Avery squinted as she tried to focus on him. “You think so?”
“Definitely!” He was smiling big now, his perfect teeth like spotlights shining from his face. “I follow you guys on Instagram, too. The captions crack me up. I especially love the posts about Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. I’m not a big football guy but I will happily root for the Chiefs for Taylor’s sake.”
Avery tried to laugh without falling over. “Are you telling me you’re a Swiftie?”
“Of course I am! Who isn’t these days? She’s a powerhouse. Her lyrics, the melodies, the production.” Pete pressed his fingertips into a bud and then to his lips in a chef’s kiss. “It’s perfect.”
Avery leaned forward, resting her elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. She knew her body was her one redeeming quality that made up for everything else. It was all she was good for; she’d received that message loud and clear. But her eyes, hazel with specks of gold, were among the features she liked the most about herself. She widened her eyes, hoping Pete would notice the flecks more than her chest.
“Now it’smyturn to be impressed,” Avery said. “I mean, I also love Taylor Swift, but the fact that you admitted you do too is pretty great.”
Pete shrugged, unbothered by her implication. “Well, it’s true. And I like her in a genuine way, not in a guilty pleasure way either.”
The corners of Avery’s lips turned into a loose smile. “That’s evenmoreimpressive.”
“I actually don’t believe in guilty pleasures, as a concept. Who you are and what you like aren’t things to feel guilty about.”
Pete seemed so self-assured, even about something that other guys might find embarrassing. Avery admired it, found it incredibly charming. What was that like, to be so confident in who you were that you didn’t care what other people thought? She longed to know.
“You make a good point,” she said. “I pretty much feel guilty about everything all the time. Probably the Catholic in me.”
Pete laughed, nodding in agreement. “I can relate to that. I’m not saying this mindset is easy, but it’s worth it. Much less stress.”
Avery couldn’t remember the last time she’d possessed the carefree freedom of confidence. It felt like the person she was now, after Noah, was the person she’d always been. He had embedded himself in her DNA and changed her on a nuclear level, so that even her children’s children’s children would be subjected to his cataclysmic influence.
“I could use that,” she said.
He gave her a playful nudge. “Stick with me, Avery. I’ll bestow all my life wisdom upon you.”
Avery’s skin buzzed where he’d touched her. Her ears savored the sound of her name in his mouth. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got, Pete.”
She chugged the rest of her beer, the last gulp tasting like water as it slid down her throat. Maybe she and Pete could get out of there. They could go back to his place and listen to some Taylor Swift, and she could learn more about him, more from him. She didn’t even need to have sex with him. Just his company would be nice.
When she finished her drink, she slammed her arm on the table with athumpand flagged the bartender down for the check, listing dangerously far left.
“Whoa there!” Pete was suddenly by her side, holding her up. “Maybe we should get you some water?”
