Page 14 of IRL: In Real Life
“A little.”
I looked at her properly then. No point wasting the chance.
“Because,” I said, lowering my voice enough for the moment to tighten between us, “you actually look like yourself.”
She blinked once, then smiled slow.
“Damn,” she said. “That bad out here?”
“You have no idea.”
She laughed, and the sound got into me before I could guard against it. It came from somewhere warm, low enough to stay between us, easy enough to make me want to be the reason for it again. Then her shoulder dropped a little, her posture settling, the neckline of that dress framing soft light-brown skin at her throat and chest. I tightened my grip on the glass like that was going to help anything.
“I should be offended,” she said.
“You’re not.”
“No,” she admitted. “I’m not.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I know exactly what you mean.”
She’d seen enough too.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You met a few men whose whole personality looked better on the app.”
Talia smiled, slow and knowing. “A few?”
“That bad?”
She took a sip from her glass, eyes still on mine over the rim. “Let’s just say I’ve met enough polished representatives of themselves to last me through winter.”
That got a laugh out of me.
“Polished representatives,” I repeated. “That’s nasty.”
“It’s accurate.” She tipped her head. “Men get online, learn three therapy words, post two black-and-white selfies and a quote about healing, and now I’m supposed to believe they know how to love somebody.”
“Damn.”
“I’m lying?”
“No.” I shook my head. “You not lying.”
Her mouth curved again, and this time I caught the quick little bite of her bottom lip before she let it go, like she was pleased I’d kept up.
That got to me too.
Plenty women were fine. Talia had range, and she knew how to use it.
“What about you?” she asked. “What’s your version?”
“My version of what?”
“Disappointment.” Her tone stayed easy, but her eyes didn’t. “What made you look relieved when you realized my face matched my face?”
I laughed under my breath and looked down into my glass for a second, mostly to keep my body from telling on me in the middle of the room.
