Maisie
Picture or it’s not real
Lexi could hear the music and laughter through the door. It didn’t feel real anyway. For her, none of this was. Just a weird sidestep the universe thought she should take to remind her that she hadn’t lived up to her full potential.
Putting her phone back in her pocket, she went back to the party through the kitchen, intending to grab that drink.
She found Will by the food, putting tiny little pastries on his plate. His gaze brightened, flickering like the candles, when he saw her coming toward him. A warmth pooled low in her belly. She very much didn’t want to be charmed by this man, but she wasn’t superhuman.
“Why do they make these so tiny?” He asked it quietly, almost conspiratorially. He held the pastry between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you think anyone eats a couple of these and then says they’re full?”
Lexi laughed. She was here having some sort of quarter-life crisis and he was contemplating hors d’oeuvres.
“Maybe so you don’t feel bad trying some of everything? You know, overeating is an issue here in the States and you’re a very strong advocate for healthy eating and lifestyles. You even worked it into legislation.” She took one of the pastries he had on his plate and popped it into her mouth while he contemplated her clue.
He pointed at her, then himself. “Am I Michelle Obama?”
Lexi nodded, surprised by how excited and happy it made her for him to have guessed on her clue. Proof she needed to throw a little more fun into her daily routine. “You are. Now tell me who I am.”
She turned and let him see her back just in case he’d forgotten. Her breath hitched when he stepped into her, his hand on her hip.
“No cheating, Lexi.” The way he said her name sent shivers through her but he stepped back before she could move away (or worse, completely into him).
She turned around slowly, hoping her expression didn’t give away her thoughts. They stared at each other a moment, their gazes locked like some sort of staring contest where whoever looks away first likes the other more. When he looked at her, everything around them blurred and he became her entire focus. Ironic since that was the very reason she avoided relationships.
She grabbed another one of those little pastries, popped it in her mouth. Couldn’t say too much if your mouth was full. She chewed, pretty sure it was quiche. The tiniest quiche ever.
“By the way, I bet you my younger sister could rival your mom for romance reads and romcom movie marathons.”
Happy to focus on something other than the attraction making her skin feel too tight, she finished her food. “Oh yeah? Do you watch them with her?”
He laughed. “I do.” He winced like he was embarrassed. “I totally knew what a meet cute was.”
Laughter burst from her chest, surprising her with its intensity; it nearly felt foreign, but damn it felt good.
“We do weekly movie nights and she gets to pick. She says it’s because women don’t have enough power in our business and this is her way of exercising it, but really, she’s just bossy.”
“I think I’d like her. One sister?”
They wandered away from the table, finding a little corner to chat.
“Two. I’m in the middle. You?” He leaned against the frame of the archway leading to what looked like an office.
“Only.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
Lexi looked down. “Long time ago now.” Long enough for her and her mom to have moved on. She forced a smile when she met his eyes again. “I was twenty-two. Finishing school.”
“On a track scholarship,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers.
“I used to be great,” she said in a teasing voice.
“I think you still are.”
Before her insides could flutter from the sincerity of his tone, he asked, “How fast are we talking?”
She stood straighter. “National champion. My last two-hundred meter was twenty-three seconds.”
