Page 39 of Play With Me
“Sorry,” I mumble to the woman, who looks disappointed but doesn’t stop me as I move toward the kitchen at a clip. I have to cut through a dozen clusters of people to get there and ignore my name more than once. That is, until Sasha steps directly in my path.
“Hey!” She’s all bubbly smiles.
I force myself to smile back. She’s not the issue here; I am.
“You look like you need this.” She hands me a glass of amber liquid. “Don’t worry, I haven’t touched it. It’s whiskey.”
I hesitate a moment, my eyes going back to Nora, who’s now folded her arms as she talks to the men.
“Yeah, that’s why I poured it for you.”
I look back at Sasha. She’s holding it out with a look that says she’s waiting for me to catch up. She reminds me a little of my sister Chelsea with that look.
“Thanks,” I mumble. I do need a drink. I toss it back, my throat burning. Immediately, I’m filled with warmth, my body seeming to relax just a hair.
Sasha props a hand on her hip. “You know, I’ve been watching you.”
“What?” For a moment concern washes over me. Is she hitting on me? She’s flirty, sure, but I pegged her for the kind of woman who’s like that with everyone without really meaning it romantically. I should know.
“Staring at Nora,” she clarifies.
Right. Definitely not hitting on me.
“I’m not staring.” I try to get the last couple of drops out of my glass, my eyes darting back to Nora.
“You’re literally staring at her right now.”
A flame of irritation heats my cheeks.
“Listen, it’s fine. I just wanted to check in with you. You know, to see where you guys stand.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up a finger. “And don’t give me any of that ‘we’re just friends’ malarkey.”
“Malarkey?”
“You heard me. I have friends. Lots of them. And none of them look at me the way you look at her.”
That heat burns now. She’s reading into things that aren’t there.
Isn’t she?
I shake the empty glass at my throat again.
“Here.” She holds up a bottle I hadn’t noticed she’d been holding, and refills my glass. “Now listen,” she says, before I can find the words to argue. “I don’t want to speak out of turn, but I feel like if you wanted to take things in a different direction, you could just ask her.”
I take a sip of whiskey. “What do you mean, a different direction?”
She folds her arms, the bottle sticking out the bottom. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?”
“Maybe.” I think I know what she’s getting at, but what if she’s trying to tell me to leave her alone?
Sasha sighs heavily. “Men. I swear. Listen, what I’m saying is I don’t think she’d hate it if you, you know, kissed her.”
My stomach jumps. I take another sip of whiskey to hide my face. Nora wouldn’t want that. Would she? I hate how excited the thought makes me. How it immediately brings back the feel of her lips on mine that time back home before she left. But I remember how upset Nora was with me.Iswith me. “She’d probably hit me,” I say bitterly.
Sasha snorts with laughter. It’s a surprising sound coming out of her. “I’ve never seen Nora act with violence once. Have you?” Before I can answer she says, “My girl had ants in her apartment this summer. They were getting in the window and onto the counter. You know what she did? She didn’t get an ant trap or poison or whatever you’re supposed to do for those things. No, she made a honey-trail.”
“A what?”
