Blinking, I drag my gaze upward to her face.
She’s stirring her drink with a rueful smile. “Fern invited me, and I like to dance, so here I am.”
A tendril of dread unfurls in my gut. “Fern ... Mulholland?”
“You think I managed to find another friend namedFern?”
It takes all my effort not to wince. I remember the Mulhollands, of course. Specifically the brother. Man, we hated each other back at Carlton. He was disruptive in class and always doing dangerous shit on his Rollerblades for attention.
But Torres ... I glance at her left hand. There’s a thin silver band on her pointer, but nothing on the ring finger.
I take a sip to clear my throat. “And you?”
“And me . . . what?”
“Not . . . Mulholland?”
“Oh! Um, no.” She busies herself stirring the ice. “Still Torres. Everett and I broke up earlier this year.”
“I’m ... sorry?” It’s a question. I’m obviouslynotsorry. But I don’t know what else to say. We’re getting into dangerous territory here. It was easier on the dance floor, where we could let our bodies do the talking. But it’s impossible to act like we’re two people who just met, who don’t have the history we share.
She drains the last of her vodka cranberry and passes me the empty glass. “I need another drink if we’re going to continue this conversation.”
I leave to get us another round. But by the time I return, the moment has passed, and I don’t know how to get it back.
“This doesn’t seem like your scene, either,” she says after I sidestep a sexy Krampus and take my seat.
“You don’t like my costume?” I gesture at my wilted button-down shirt and tie. “I’m Corporate Businessman #2, here to turn the local Christmas tree farm into a strip mall.”
Torres huffs out a genuine laugh, then gives the lights strung around her neck a light tug. “Well, in that case, it’s better than my half-assed attempt to fit in.”
Because I’m aching to tell her how fucking pretty she looks, I backtrack instead. “So why isn’t this my scene? Because it’s a club?”
She gives me a searching look. “Because it’s a gay club.”
She puts a slight emphasis ongay. Might as well tell her.
“It’s not my first. I’m bi, Torres.”
“Wait, really? Me too!” Her face lights up, and I’m relieved, but then her expression turns thoughtful. “Actually, I lean toward identifying as pansexual. It fits me better. I just didn’t knowyouwere. Not that I needed to know!” She holds up her hands, like she’s worried she’s offended me. “I mean, we haven’t seen each other since high school, and obviously it’s notthe kind of thing you need to broadcast. And I shouldn’t have assumed that you were ...”
“Straight? It’s okay. I was kind of quiet about it until this year. Thanks to, ah, therapy.”
“You’re in therapy?” I expect her to sound shocked, but she sounds more intrigued.
I shrug. “After my father died, it turned out I had a lot of shit to unpack.”
She grabs my hand and her remorse is obvious. “I’m so sorry, Noble. I hadn’t heard. And I shouldn’t have said it that way. You’ve clearly worked on yourself, and you don’t deserve to have it thrown in your face.”
“You’d be justified in throwing a lot more in my face, Torres, starting with that drink. I was fucking awful to you.”
I can’t suppress the bitterness in my tone, and her eyes shutter. She lets go of my hand, leaning back in her chair as if putting space between us. “I don’t think I’m ready to go there yet.”
Inside, I’m cringing. Whatever was building between us, I’ve just ruined it. But I swallow down the words I owe her and hang on to the one suspended in the air between us.
Yet.
We aren’t thereyet.
