Page 43 of Back for More
She is so delighted to hear this, though, I don’t know if she deserves this gift. “Oh well, that’s nice! We all have to start somewhere, right?”
“Guess who she’s working for—” Alecia is getting all up in her face, but I pull her back.
“It’s not that interesting, really.”
Two of the slouching guys I had noticed staring at me finally approach us. “Hey,” one of them says, nodding at me.
“Hey.”
Scarlett pushes her hair behind one ear and waits for a greeting that never comes.
“My buddy and I were like—we know that girl. Did we go to school with her? And then we were like—she looks like that hot chick from that insurance commercial. You totally look like that one girl, who does the hair flip?”
I nod and glance ever so quickly over at Scarlett before flipping my hair and replying. “Yeah. I am that chick.”
The guys elbow each other. “That’s what we thought—but we were like, what would she be doing here?”
“Just having a girls’ night with my best friend.” I put my arm around Alecia. “Oh, do you guys know Scarlett?”
Both of them completely ignore Scarlett.
“I like your glitter,” the tall, skinny guy says to Alecia.
“Thanks!” she yells. “I like your baseball cap!”
“She likes her husband and children even more!” I offer before getting swatted at by my friend.
“He’s just being nice!”
“It’s cool,” says the tall, skinny guy in a baseball cap. “I like moms.”
“Thank you! You’re sweet.” Alecia raises her glass to him, completely oblivious to the fact that he would totally bone her in the men’s room right now if she were into it.
I realize that Scarlett has rejoined her group of friends on the dance floor and appears to be excitedly telling them that I’m an assistant. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy knowing that I’ve made her so happy tonight.
“So we totally recognized you from that commercial because we saw it during the Super Bowl, and we were all like—who was that blonde girl?—and we Googled it and found the commercial on YouTube and watched it, like, I dunno—a few times.”
“This guy watched it a few hundred times, more like.”
“Cool,” I say. “Did it inspire you to purchase car insurance?”
“Um. No. So you’re an actress or a model or what?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” Okay, I’ll admit it. This is the level of intimacy I’ve been most comfortable with when it comes to guys for most of my life—being admired by strangers that I have absolutely no chemistry with. It’s safe and it’s easy and it passes the time. Who needs fireworks when I can have regular conversations with regular guys who don’t stimulate me in any way, on any level?
I’m just starting to convince myself that I can live like this for the foreseeable future when I think I catch sight of the one person I was trying not to secretly hope that I’d see tonight. He’s an oasis of tight black T-shirt and blazer in a desert of flannel and polo shirts. He’s a giant, freshly made chocolate croissant in a bakery filled with day-old plain donuts. He’s walking toward us, eyes pinning me with a possessive stare that sends shivers up and down my spine and gives me a rush like no amount of sugar can do for my brain and my body. Lord, I just want him to lie down on top of me for like an hour. It doesn’t have to be a sex thing! I just want the weight of him pressing down on me so that it’s all I can feel.
“Oh my God, shut up no way!” Alecia squeals and starts jumping up and down. “Bay-baaaayyyyyy!!!”
I finally notice that Neal is walking alongside Wes.
“So what are you doing here, though, seriously?” the guy I had completely forgotten about asks, trying to step back into my sightline. “Can I get you another drink?”
“I think she’s good,” Wes says as he puts an arm around me. “You’re good, right?” he asks me.
I stare up at him, unable to do anything other than enjoy the weight of his big man arm on me, unable to speak for maybe the first time ever.
“Yeah, she’s good. Thanks, man.” Wes removes his arm from my shoulder for a few seconds to shake hands with the guy. “Have a good night.”
