Page 118 of IRL: In Real Life
That first breath of her always got me. Perfume. Warm skin. Whatever lotion she used. Something floral and expensive under all that, something that was just hers, lifted a little by the rooftop breeze. I held her there for a second, felt the soft give of her against me, and let myself have it.
When she leaned back, I looked down into her eyes. They were alive all over again. Sparkling. Animated. Like seeing me had put an extra current in her.
“You made it,” she said.
I let my hands stay where they were. “You thought I was playing?”
Her mouth curved. “No. Seeing you is different.”
I looked at her for one more second, then past her shoulder at the rooftop bar and the glass in her hand.
“You got water?”
Her brows lifted. “You said hello already.”
“I’m serious.”
“I have a French 75.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
One of the things about Talia was that she got so busy she forgot to hydrate. The irony was Molly felt the same way about me eating lunch.
Talia laughed softly. “There’s water, and I’ve had some.”
“Good.”
I had a rum old fashioned in my own hand already, mostly because it gave me something to do while I watched her workthe rooftop and tried not to act like the plum dress was a public offense.
We stood near one of the planters for a minute talking. Not about anything especially deep. Just enough to let me hear her voice up close and watch the way she shifted in and out of professional mode without ever sounding fake. Talia never became somebody else for a room. She just turned certain parts of herself up or down depending on who was standing in front of her.
I respected the hell out of that.
She had just leaned in to say something about one of the client-side creatives when I saw him coming from the bar.
Nigga was smiling too wide before he even reached us.
I knew the type immediately. The kind of man who decided a woman’s politeness had hidden meaning because it was easier than admitting she was just good at her job and not interested in him.
Talia saw him too.
I felt the change in her before I even looked down. Her face stayed pleasant, but the ease went out of it a little. Tight around the mouth. Not enough for anybody else to call it.
Enough for me.
He stepped up, drink in hand, the city behind him and too much confidence in front of him.
“Talia,” he said, and already I didn’t like how familiar he was making it sound. “I been trying to catch you all night.”
She gave him the professional smile. “Andre.”
There he was.
Andre’s eyes flicked to me and back to her, still trying to figure out the room while standing in it.
I slid my arm around her waist and pulled her in against my side. Not hard. Not for show. Just enough to answer the question before he asked it.
“Micah,” I said, leaning close enough to let him hear the ownership in the introduction if he had ears. “What’s good.”
