Page 37 of Beneath Your Beautiful
“Feels like we’re in Mexico,” I said, although when I looked out at the Midtown Manhattan skyline, it looked nothing like Mexico. Sunlight sparkled on the East River, a ferry churning up the water, passengers crowding the deck. The Rooftop was a trendy bar, on top of a hotel, and the place I’d been rejected on the day I met Hailey. It was a cool bar, the music was chilled-out, and we’d managed to score a table outside. What more could you ask for on a Saturday afternoon?
“Arriba,” Hailey said, reaching for a nacho.
I slid my sunglasses up my nose and tipped my face to the sun. I felt all toasty and warmed by the sun and the alcohol coursing through my veins. This was the perfect thing to do on a sunny July day when you needed to relax and forget the world. And forget about Killian who worried about my safety but didn’t give a damn about my feelings. He’d shut me out so completely. Did that day in the coffee shop or our late-night conversations on the drives home ever happen? Last night after he’d dropped me off, I told myself it was for the best and tried to convince myself it was true.
“If I did get with Zeke, I might find out he’s not all that great and the illusion will be shattered,” Hailey said.
Pretty sure she said something similar about five minutes ago. Or maybe it was an hour ago. Who was counting? I’d lost track of time somewhere after my first margarita. “Or maybe you two will fall in love and get married and live in a house with a white picket fence and a bunch of kids.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t think of anything worse.” Come to think of it, neither could I. Was that what I’d planned to do with Luke? Play house, have kids, get a teaching job with my English degree? While I enjoyed some of my English Lit classes, it wasn’t my passion. Unlike my mom, teaching Shakespeare and the classics wouldn’t have made me happy. “That isnotmy dream. One day I’ll own my own restaurant and I’ll hire all women. Restaurant kitchens are so male-dominated. I mean, I knew this from culinary school, but it still drives me nuts the way they strut around like they’re so superior just because they have penises. What about you?”
I tugged down the hem of my white crocheted mini skirt. “I don’t have a penis.”
Hailey giggled. “I can see that.”
I squinted at her and lowered my sunglasses for a more accurate color reading. “You told me to tell you if your shoulders are getting pink. They’re getting pink.” I winced. They’d passed pink and gone straight to red.
She slid the strap of her tank top aside to confirm it was a lot redder than the unexposed skin. “Ugh. I never tan. I just get more freckles.” She whipped out her suntan lotion and slathered it all over her arms and shoulders.
When the waiter served our margaritas, I leaned forward and took a sip without picking up the glass. I licked the salt off my lips and settled back in my chair, sighing with contentment like a big cat.
“If you could do anything, and nothing was holding you back, what would it be?” Hailey asked.
I gathered my hair, slid it over one shoulder and loosely braided it to keep it off my neck. “I’d be an artist. There’s this gallery I visit, and it’s run by women. And all the exhibitions are by female artists.” I secured the end of the braid with the elastic on my wrist.
“You need to get your own exhibition.” She smacked my arm for emphasis. We’d bonded over margaritas and sunshine. “How cool would it be if everyone came to see your work?”
“I’m a long way from getting my own exhibition. There are tons of brilliant artists in this city.”
“You could be one of those brilliant artists someday.”
I mulled that over for a minute. The whole point of coming to Brooklyn was to start making my own dreams come true. I needed to start focusing on the things that really mattered.
Intent on doing just that, I whipped out my phone and sent a quick text without giving myself a chance to overthink it. Everyone needed to start somewhere. A wall was a good place to start. I had nothing to lose by asking. I tossed my cell in my handbag and guzzled my margarita, pleased with all the fabulous decisions I’d made today. I was taking my life into my own hands and making things happen. Why couldn’t I be a brilliant artist someday? There was no reason to limit myself.
“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “We need to go for our dreams and not let guys get in the way.”
“Absolutely.” Hailey raised her glass. “Here’s to our future. It’s looking bright.”
We clinked glasses and drank to that. Not that we needed any incentive to down these drinks. It was hot, and we were thirsty.
“Hey.” Hailey nudged my arm and lowered her voice. “Check out the guys who just came out. They’re total hotties.”
So much for leaving guys out of the equation. I looked over at the glass doors opened onto the roof terrace. My eyes locked on the guy in Ray Ban wayfarers, wearing a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and Sperry Topsiders. He looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht or a sailboat, one of his fancy toys, maybe. Adam’s gaze landed on us, and I looked away.
“They’re coming over here,” Hailey said in a loud whisper.
“Mind if we sit with you?” his friend asked, giving us a big smile.
“We don’t mind,” Hailey said, returning his smile.
They pulled over chairs from other tables, and Hailey and I scooted over to make room for them.
“I’m Ben,” the blond guy said. “And that’s Adam.”
“Hailey. And—”
“Eve,” Adam said, flashing me a smile.
