Page 3 of Then There Was You
“Here are the highlights.” She reads, “Hides behind words, lacking authenticity . . .” Her eyes widen as she steals a glance at me before looking back at the phone again. “Masks behind ideas instead of truths.”
I should be shocked by the criticism, but Professor Johns is known as a hard-ass. “Not what I was hoping for. Did I fail?—?”
“You got a B.”Thank fuck.Her expression softens into a matching smile, and she hands the phone back to me. “Can’t be all bad. I’d like to read it someday.”
Still in a bit of shock, I stare at the B listed at the bottom of the email and reply, “I’m thinking it needs some revision before anyone else sees it.” But that she’s shown interest piques my interest to look at her again. “But it’s passing and keeps me heading in the direction of graduation in the spring.” I drop thephone back in my pocket and start rolling down my sleeves for warmth. “What’s your name?”
Another light laugh befitting the cold night rings from her chest. “I’m Sosie. I should have introduced myself, but you know how hiding out goes. It’s not the most conducive environment to get to know somebody.”
“Seems we’ve done alright for ourselves.” I bend down to pull a cigarette from the pack tucked into my black polyester sock, and retrieve the lighter from the other one. I look into her eyes as I light up to see whether they're brown, green, or maybe hazel. It’s too dark to figure it out, so I take a long drag, then slowly exhale. “I like your name. It’s different.”
“Sometimes too different.”
“There’s no value in being the same,” I add, though I’m thinking she’s no stranger to standing out from a crowd. She’s too pretty to blend in. Taking another long inhale, I slowly release the smoke into the air, letting it billow into the slightest of December breezes.
“Tell that to all the dupes out there.” She reaches over and asks, “Spare a drag?”
I hand the cigarette to her. “I have more if you want your own.”
Instead of replying, she inhales the smoke, dropping her head back against the wall as if she’s needed this all day. She’s not the only one. With her eyes closed, she leisurely breathes the smoke out, letting her shoulders sink back against the stone like the side of her head. When she opens her eyes, she rolls her gaze my way. “I can’t, but thanks.”
I’m drawn to her lips when she speaks. Darker than pink but not unapproachable in deep red, it’s like they’re stained from eating too many cherries or she just finished a popsicle. Making her smile could become my favorite pastime. Tracing the bow at the top of her lips would be pure entertainment. But watchingthem wrapped around the cigarette stirs more than an urge for nicotine.
I turn my attention to the party happening on the other side of the large windows. The music is muffled along with the chatter, but it still manages to fill in the background noise. When I look at her, I say, “I’ve worked parties across the five boroughs, but this place—manicured backyard, a pool, a fucking guesthouse, and who knows how many bedrooms and baths are inside. A mansion parked at the edge of Central Park. This is peak wealth in Manhattan. What a life.”
She inhales a quicker drag before she hands the cigarette back to me and takes a few steps into the grass. “I’m sure it’s hollow for most.”
“If I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t waste it on parties.”
“What would you waste it on?”
I’m not sure why her calling me out has me grinning, but it does. Studying the red remaining from her lips, I tuck the butt between my lips, inhale, and look at her out of the sides of my eyes. “Living.”
Shrugging the jacket from her shoulders, she catches it in her hands. “Who says they’re not?” She twists her wrist to see the face of an analog watch. Other than the expensive brands, those are hard to come by. “I’m late.” Coming up to me, she says, “One more drag?”
She opens her mouth and blinks twice with her eyes latched to mine. It’s not an invitation, Keats, but she makes it damn tempting to kiss her. I give her what she wants and hold the cigarette to her mouth. Her lids dip closed as her chest rises. I shift my gaze to the orange glow to keep myself from staring so much. She makes me feel like a kid with a high school crush. She’s carefree to my reserved, spontaneous to my scheduled. There’s an air of excitement just being in her vicinity. I haven’tfelt like this about a girl in a while. I can’t even remember the last girl I took an interest in.
What makes her different is the same things she’d argue are flaws, and that leaves me wanting to get her number.
She moves away too soon, tossing my coat to me, and says, “Thanks.” Her smile knocks all twenty-three years from my chest as if life is just beginning.
My heart starts thumping, my breath shortens, and my thoughts spin wildly as I try to figure out what the fuck just happened. I’m not a frivolous guy. That luxury was never afforded to me, but being caught up in her makes me feel alive. It’s exhilarating.
Sosie’s too fast, running away before I have time to collect my thoughts. “Thanks for the cigarette.” She hits me with that stunner of a smile when the light invades the moment we were sharing and resets time like it hadn’t existed prior. “And the jacket.”
While she rushes down the path toward the main house, I call, “Hey?”
She stops and looks back, the sides of her mouth gently curling upward. “Yeah?”
Slipping one arm back into the jacket, I ask, “What if I want to see you again?” My voice is deeper, heavier as time slips away from us.
Her smile spreads on one cheek, and she replies, “If it’s meant to be, it will be, Poet.”
“What crew are you with?”
Desperation grows into panic, my heart ticking like a time bomb about to set off, as she disappears through the back door like she’s sneaking into the party.Damn . . . What just happened?
Why didn’t I ask for her number?
