Page 65 of Idle

So much kissing.

When “This Can’t Happen Again,” the anthem Cole Manchester wrote for the Concert for the Children of Ukraine that debuted at the worldwide event held in July, the place goes bonkers. We end up singing the final chorus, arm in arm with a bunch of people we’ve never met. After it comes to an end, Paige runs her palm over her forehead and points to the bar. Slinging my arm over this spitfire, I lead us toward rehydration.

Standing in line to get the bartender’s attention, I kiss her cheek. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“Agreed.” She raises her hand and the bartender points to her, so she gives him our orders.

“You’re amazing. I’d probably still be waiting outside to get in if not for you. I’d definitely be dying of thirst.”

Her fingertips bounce off my stomach. “Stick with me, kid.”

This is sounding like a better idea by the second.

When the bartender returns with our drinks, I pay him while she chats him up. He seems interested in her. I place my hand on her ass and give him an innocent smile. The guy takes the hint and moves on.Smart.

We scope out the tables and are crossing the room when I spot Quinn. Pointing, I yell in Paige’s ear, “Quinn’s here.”

She follows the direction of my finger and takes a step, then stops. “Shit! Look who she’s with.”

A sinking feeling overcomes me. It better not be who I think it is. I check out Quinn’s companion and sure enough—Bo sits across from her, drinking a pale lager out of a bottle. Heathen.

I grab Paige’s hand. “Let them be.”

She lowers her voice, “Do you think they’re dating? Why are they here together? Will this fuck up our chances in the competition?”

All good questions. For which I have no answers. “I don’t know. But she isn’t a judge, so hopefully not. Let’s go over there.” I indicate an area across from them, separated by a multitude of club goers. We beat a hasty retreat.

Sipping our drinks, Paige moves on from our work colleagues to giving me the dirt on the other people at the club. I try to ignore Quinn and Bo together here, but it’s hard. When an upbeat tune by Untamed Coaster rings out, I debate returning to the dance floor but decide I’d rather vacate the premises altogether. The sighting has ruined the club for me.

I finish my Guinness too fast for my sensibilities and place the glass onto a countertop. Leaning in, I ask, “Want to get out of here?”

She holds up her mug and uses the other hand to point to the ceiling with her index finger. A second later she shows me an empty copper container. “Thought you’d never ask. Although,” she hands me her mug which I place on the counter next to my empty glass, “We’re taking a taxi this time.”

“At this hour of the night, that’s a given.”

We slink out of the club without causing a stir, and I hail a yellow cab, which returns us to the High Line after several traffic snarls. After I pay the hefty fee, she remarks, “I get the subway now. Traffic like that sucks.”

Holding the building’s door open for her, I agree. When we approach the elevators, I cock my eyebrow. “Which floor?”

“Sixteen.”

Since I don’t want to return to the ViewPad either, I press the button and soon we’re inside the apartment we’re renovating. She looks adorably disheveled after having drunk, danced, and delighted in the night.

With me.

She giggles. “Alexa! Turn on my sexy playlist.”

Silence.

Curious as to what’s on her “sexy playlist,” I swivel my hips. “Is this a Spanish song by Ozzy Martinez?”

“Nope. It’s ‘Love Rules.’” She shakes her body to an imaginary beat. “Good choice, though.” Twirling around my body, she sings some of Hunte’s lyrics in a surprisingly melodious manner. Then she changes to “Let Me Give You a Sweet” by TLR. She shimmies in front of me in the most seductive of ways. “Then, there’s—”

I silence her with a passionate kiss. Like the ones we shared in the bed in the other room, not the tamer ones from the dance floor. Here, no one’s watching.

I pull back. Cameras roll twenty-four-seven in the ViewPad, but not in here. Right? My brows pull together.

Her fingers trace my eyebrows. “None of that now.” She smiles. “Not when the music’s playing and we’re the only two people around.”

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