Page 51 of Off Camera
She blinks then looks away, and I feel like a goddamn creep for intruding on a personal moment.
“Whiskey neat,” the bartender announces, grinning when she sets the drink in front of me. “Anything else I can get you, sweetie?”
“I’m all set.”
“My name is Dana if that changes.”
I lift the glass and take a long sip. It’s rich going down, smooth with a hint of spice, and I savor the taste of a drink I hardly ever order.
Tonight seemed like a good night to enjoy it, though, and I’m going to blame Avery goddamn Sinclair.
My phone buzzes, and I’m surprised to see a message from her on the screen.
I turn it face down and stare at the back of the case.
I should ignore it.
I don’t have any reason to answer.
We’re not friends. She’s clearly here with someone else, but there’s a pressure on my chest nonetheless, heavy and resolute that won’t ease up as I wonder what she has to say.
Hell.
I grab my phone.
Avery
Stealing my drink order?
Me
Someone has to.
Is that a light beer you’re drinking? Disgusting.
Avery
You say disgusting, I say delicious.
Nice video you posted today, by the way. Too bad it only got 10,000 likes.
Me
Better than the TikTok you posted last night. The one that only got, what? Four thousand views?
Avery
I’m flattered you keep such close tabs on me.
Me
Like how you’re obviously not enjoying yourself over there? Do I need to intervene?
She types out a response, but instead of sending it, she sets her phone down. She picks up her glass of shitty beer, turns her attention back to the guy still talking her ear off, and ignores me.
I’m not jealous.
That’s never been a personality trait of mine, but something that feels a lot like anger courses through me when he touches her arm and leans in close to whisper in her ear.
