Page 22 of Best Kept Secret
I roll my eyes, although she has a point. When I interned at Better Petroleum last summer, I wore sundresses and cute boots every day. But New York City is a far cry from Texas, that’s for sure.
“You wanna look professional.” Emily nudges me playfully with a bony elbow. “And cute. Who knows? You might meet nice a finance guy.”
I grimace, looking down at the menu. “Ugh. No thanks. I’m so over men...”
“Maybe you need a nice hockey boy,” Fran says teasingly.
I feel my face flame, but I don’t look up, terrified that, if I do, they might see straight through me. Instead, I offer a dismissive, “Ew,” scanning the sandwich options.
“Oh, I like that,” Emily muses, ignoring my objection. “Who’s single?”
Oh, my God. I grit my teeth.
“Happy,” Fran says.
“Oh, God,” Emily guffaws, and they both break into fits of laughter.
“Could you imagine Dallas’s reaction if she started dating Happy!” Fran shrieks.
Emily snickers. “Logan.”
My spine stiffens.
“I don’t know about that,” Fran says, her suspicious tone causing my head to snap up of its own accord.
“He’s not single?” Emily’s eyebrows draw together.
“I don’t know for sure.” Fran shrugs. “But I feel like there might be something going on between him and Hannah.”
Emily’s eyes bug. “Stop!”
Fran nods, biting back a conspiratorial grin. “Logan left his wallet in the locker room after practice a few weeks ago, so Robbie stopped by his apartment to drop it off to him, and… Hannah was there.” Fran waggles her eyebrows as she continues, “And, I don’t know… I kind of get a vibe between them.”
“Now that you mention it,” Emily begins, “she does seem to be overly friendly with him. Like when she showed up at Ned’s last night, they were giving serious couple energy.”
“I think we need a girls’ night.” Fran arches a brow.
“Interrogation.” Emily nods.
My stomach roils as I watch the back and forth between the two of them. I almost believed Logan last night when he looked me dead in my eyes and told me that nothing was going on between him and Hannah, that they were just friends. Now, listening to Fran and Emily, maybe Logan’s just a really good liar.
As much as it still hurts, maybe it was for the best that I found out he was a cheating son of a bitch before I fell too hard. Because I was. Falling.Hard. Between our late-night texting marathons and the random phone calls throughout the day when I was between classes and he was bored, I really thought Logan was going to be the guy to officially sweep me off my feet. I felt giddy any time his name flashed up on my phone screen. I was falling so hard for him. But then I foundherin his apartment, wearing his jersey and nothing else.
Logan is no better than fucking Parker. And every other guy.
I slam my menu shut, suddenly pissed.
“Do they sell liquor here?” I ask no one in particular.
“I think just champagne,” Emily says, looking toward the counter.
“Let’s get a bottle.”
“My kinda gal.” Fran winks, holding up a hand to signal the server.
Fran Keller is a bad influence. The worst.
A bottle of champagne over lunch turned into sunset cocktails at some fancy roof top bar, and now, here we are, in a Downtown nightclub where her friend’s boyfriend is DJing, and I’ve lost track of how many shots I’ve consumed. I’m seriously starting to regret not leaving with Emily after cocktail number one back at the rooftop bar. But Fran is persuasive, to say the least, and her friend, Vera, the intimidatingly beautiful runway model-type, is just as bad.
