Poor Josh. Poor, poor Josh. He has no idea what he just got himself into.
I dart the tip of my tongue out, hummingbird-quick, like I want to taste where he touched me. I doubt anyone else noticed, but Josh’s eyes widen for a split second, and I can’t resist a smirk. And for the second time in five minutes, someone is narrowing their eyes at me.
Oh, it’s on.
When the server brings out our meals a few minutes later, the parents have been talking about getting together with the Reillys this summer at their place on South Padre Island. Presley has fallen quiet, but I can’t read her well enough to tell if she’s pouting or regrouping. My money is on regrouping. Josh has made it clear that she’s not a quitter.
I better play this up some more to drive it home. And this is a two-fer because I get to give Josh’s knee a gentle squeeze. I feel the base of his quadricep jump against my palm, but I barely have time to reward myself for the point before he retaliates. His hand closes over mine on his knee, and he lifts and turns it over, palm up, to press a kiss in it. I almost drop my fork when I feel the light lick of his tongue against my skin before he raises his head. He settles it back on his leg, but about mid-thigh—much, much higher than his knee—his hand still resting over mine.
It will look like the kind of intimate gesture we’ve shared often, when in reality, he’s got a fairly firm hold on my hand so I can’t wiggle it out. I fight a smile. He’s crafty, Josh is.
The rest of the night goes like this. Presley tries a couple more times to make me look uncouth. I serve it back to her. Josh plays with my hair, making my scalp break out in goosebumps. I retaliate by softly stroking his arm.
Between the two of them, I’m entertained but in desperate need of a break while we wait on dessert. Presley orders the cheese plate. I order cheesecake.
“Excuse me,” I say, sliding my chair back from the table. “Ladies’ room.”
Josh stands when I do, ever the gentleman, and I use it as a chance to put points on the board, going up on tiptoe to brush my mouth along his jawline and murmur, “I’ll be back in a minute.” His Adam’s apple does a very noticeable up and down, but I’m not so sure I’ve come out ahead on that one. The rasp of his scruff against my lips seems to have briefly made my knees weak.
I pause, pretending to cover the wobble by smoothing my skirt before I continue toward the restroom. I really hope Josh didn’t notice that.
Our game has made the evening far more interesting than I expected it to be, but dining with the Reillys and Browers has only reinforced that Josh and I are a bad fit. Presley hinted at it, but I’m never going to be well-bred enough for people like the Browers.
There was a time when I’d tried to be like Presley, fitting in effortlessly with the country club crowd. I’d wanted this life, a calendar full of socializing with these people. I’d done everything I could to make myself the perfect Presley for Bryce, only to have his mom pull me aside before his family took him out for a graduation dinner to tell me I wasn’t invited.
College is done now,she’d said.Playtime is over and Bryce needs to step into the next phase of his life.
I’d found out the next day that I was part of his “playtime” when he came over and dumped me. It was all very Elle Woods/Warner inLegally Blonde.
I’m not going to turn myself inside out, unravel, and try to remake myself into what they want me to be. I’d lost myself so badly after Bryce. I won’t do that again.
I emerge from my stall to find Presley standing in front of the mirror, retouching her lipstick.
“I’ve known Josh our whole lives,” she says. It’s conversational, like she’s commented on the weather.
“He told me. Said it was fun having another honorary sister around.” She’ll hate that.
But Presley is done with veiled barbs. She shoves her lipstick into her Chanel bag and turns to face me. I don’t bother taking my eyes off the mirror, absorbing myself with the inspection of my eyebrow. I have good eyebrows. Great eyebrows. Well-shaped, if I do say so myself.
“Our fathers are best friends and they’ve always wanted to be family. They were just waiting for us to grow up so we could marry.”
“Oh, like feudal dynasties? Weird. I didn’t know people actually did that stuff anymore.” I sound distracted because I know it will kill her to think I’m not even giving her all my attention.
“Don’t play dumb,” she says. “It’s taken some time for Josh to be ready, but he and I are a lock. Done deal. It’s happening. He’ll see it sooner than later. You don’t have the background. The history.Ido.”
I give myself a fresh coat of lip gloss. This is one of the rare moments in my life where I’m saying exactly the right thing, the comebacks rolling off my tongue, my brain in high gear. And it’s all because I’m not invested in Josh or his future. If I were, my stomach would probably be a mess and I’d be tongue-tied, lucky to come up with even a weak “Oh, yeah?”
But notactuallywanting Josh doesn’t mean I’m going to give Presley this win. The whole point of my big fat payoff is to make her believe that Josh is not an option for her, now or ever. I have to channel some of Lady Mantha’s give-em-hell attitude, but I put my lip gloss away and meet Presley’s eyes.
“You do have history.” I reach over and toy idly with the leather tag on her handbag. “And yet I know Josh in ways you never will.” I slide my eyes up to meet hers and give her a small, knowing smile, then step around her and walk out on her soft gasp of outrage.
It was a gamble, but I suspect if Josh had slept with Presley, he would have mentioned it. And I’m very well aware that I’ve left her to draw the conclusion that Josh and I have gone there. She doesn’t need to know that’s not how I operate, especially not if it makes her mad enough to drop her Josh campaign.
Anhourlater,we’reback on the road toward home.
“Thanks for doing this,” Josh says, shooting a glance my way.
“No problem.”
