Page 156 of Shade
“Who was that?” I give my best resting-bitch face to her, and she notices. Oh yeah, she fucking notices.
Back off, hussy.
“I don’t know.” Shade shrugs and then hands me a shot of tequila. I love that he knows what I like. “Some chick. She offered to blow me.” His eyes make a sweep over my dress. Then he smirks and lifts his own drink to his lips. “Fuck, you’re hot. Can I watch you take it off later?”
I cover his mouth with my hand. “Shush. Did she really hit on you? I mean, I’ve literally been standing next to you all night. Wouldn’t she think we were together?”
“Yep. Gave me a cherry in a shot glass too. Said if I wanted, I could have hers too.”
I eye him carefully in disbelief. “What aslut.”
He throws his head back in laughter and then leans into my shoulder, wrapping his arm around me. “You know, this reminds me of the plane ride to Paris. . . . Just admit it, you’re jealous.”
My eyes narrow at him. “I am not, Shade.”
He nods. “Yes, yes you are.”
“Fine. Fuck you.” My shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m jealous.”
He breathes out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “Finally, you admit you like me!”
“You know damn well I like you.”
“No, I don’t. You’re constantly mean to me.”
We’re laughing when suddenly his body tenses and he drops his arm from my shoulders.
“I’ve been thinking, when Willa comes back, do you think you’re going to stay in California or come back to Seattle?”
I glance over at him, almost afraid to talk about this. “Well, my life is here.” At least it used to be. Now I’m not so sure. Truth is, I always saw myself leaving Seattle. Just like Shade never wanted to go back to Glen Helen for the memories it held, Seattle, in some ways, held the same pain for me.
I’m not looking at him when he whispers in my ear, “But I’m there. Would it be so bad if you stayed?”
The significance of what he says rushes through my veins like wildfire spreading. Boom. Heart exploding.
You know when you’re driving on the freeway and you’re making great time, flying through traffic and thinking shit, this is going so smoothly. I’ll finally be on time for something.
And then someone cuts you off and decides to do fifteen under in the fast lane?
That’s my current situation, or what’s about to happen.
Take a look around the reception. Do you see the happy newlyweds dancing together? They’re sickeningly adorable.
Then take a look at Shade and me, tucked away in the shadows near the windows, looking over the beautiful gardens with breathtaking views of Seattle’s waterfront.
Then there’s Tom. You remember him, right? The guy who “liked” me and is currently living in my apartment with a dog in my bed?
He’s approaching us.
The first step he takes toward me, I flinch. He cuts through the mass of people, a few long strides, and I’m yanked to the side. By Tom.
Tom spins around, his face colored with surprise. “Youbroughthim?”
“Yes.” I jerk my arm away from and motion to Shade. “I brought him. Shade, this is Tom Chase. My friend. Tom, meet Shade Sawyer.”
Tom frowns and rolls his eyes. “Scar, I’ve met him before.”
It’s true. Mila introduced them a few times, but I doubt Shade knows. We’ve been over this many times. His memory sucks. He doesn’t remember who he met at dinner last night. Or who he sleeps with for that matter.
