Page 19 of Rogue's Path
Oh.
OH.
Oh. “I. Um. Don’t live around here.”
“A plane can take me just about anywhere nowadays.”
OH! Can I really say no to a smile like that? “I don’t normally look like this.”
“Even better. Hand me your phone.”
Um. This is crazy. Insane. I slide my phone out of my purse and unlock it. What am I doing?
“Good Girl.”
What? He’s not allowed to say things like that. We aren’t in a steamy romance novel. Murderery books are my style. This guy probably does that too.
Somehow, my phone ends up in his hands.
I’m not drunk enough to get that crazy. How drunk would I have to be to make this feel sane and rational?
“When I invite you out for lunch tomorrow, you can call me Taylor.”
This does not compute. Taylor just broke my brain. “You don’t even know my name.”
“You can tell me at lunch.” He reaches across and sets my phone back in my palm, brushing my fingers with his.
A woman who was in control of all her faculties would say something. But since he decimated mine, I turn and flee without uttering a single one.
Cowards live to fight another day. Or run from things that are completely overwhelming.
Living is good.
Awkwardly, I flop and trip into my chair, reaching for my drink.
This is not how I planned the night to go.
Is he watching me?
There’s no way I’m turning to find out. That whole eyes meeting across the bar thing would be so cringy and embarrassing.
Cordelia precisely floats into the seat next to me, crossing her feet at the ankles. How long did she have to practice that move?
Why didn’t my mom teach me that? Fine, I can get out almost any stain on my clothes and my hospital corners would make a military man jealous. None of that looks as elegant as Cordelia just did. “How was it? Did you get a number?” Why did I ask? Now she’s going to end up asking me.
“It was…freeing.” Her face lights up. “Just knowing my mother would have a stroke made it magical. Then having four guys give me their numbers made it even better. Dahlia, this was the best idea ever.” Cordelia lifts her glass, and the table erupts.
The best idea…wouldn’t be how I described it.
What?!?
Dylan
Why did I ever think karaoke was a good idea?
I haven’t drunk enough to get up on that stage.
“Me either,” Cordelia whispers.
