The terrace? Mind if I take a seat?”
Chapter 4
CHRIS
Of all the gin joints…
I knew it was flip-flop girl from the back of her head, although the foot peek ing out from underneath the booth definitely would have helped. She was by herself, another party refugee, although I still had no idea who she was or what she was doing in my part of town.
“Of course,” she says , sweeping her hand over the empty seat across from her. “Please.”
I jump in the booth, glancing around to find the waitress. Meeting the eyes of an older woman who had clearly been working in this particular diner for at least ten years too lo ng, I pantomime drinking coffee. S he nods , albeit with a tiny smirk on her face. It was going to be a minute before I saw that coffee.
I turn my attention back to the girl. Goddamn Sophia . Now you exiled yourself until the car comes and you’re stuck trying to make conversation with flip flops. I sigh . At least I would get to see her eyes again.
“What’s up?” I ask her. She was putting her phone away and muttering an apology about being rude. My interest was piqued—clearly a childhood with family dinners and no cell phone conversations, then.
“Not much?” Ice cold.
“Sorry. I’m Chris. I saw you in here and figured that I might as well sit rather than stand.”
It wasn’t totally true. There were a couple of stools at the counter, and I could have taken one of those.
“Of course,” she says , still staring at the table rather than at me. “I was about to leave in a minute, anyway. Just needed a little break.”
“A break, huh?”
“A break,” she confirms .
We sat in silence for a couple of seconds. I was going to have to try a little harder.
“So, I’ve never seen you before. Was that your first Sophia party?”
“Yeah. It got a little cr owded for me up there. ” She hesitates, looking at my face and shaking her head slightly. She had just made a decision, and I wasn’t sure what it was yet.
“Yeah, it does that.”
She let s out the breath she had been holding in and offers me a small smile , enough for me to remember the way the space around her had lit up when she had smiled at me from across the terrace.
“Most of us know each other from high school,” I say . “I’m pretty certain you didn’t go to Sampson.”
She laughs , and it’s a throaty sound and full of mischief . “What gave me away?”
I hesitate for a second and decide to tell the truth . “Well, I could have figured it out, because we live in a small, fairly closed-off world. Plus, Sampson only had 100 kids in each grade, so when I realized I didn’t know you, it was pretty clear that you didn’t go there. But, actually, it was the flip-flops.”
She looks down at her feet and then smiles again at me . This was certainly a change from most of the girls I knew. Their favorite facial expressions were somewhere between a smirk and a pout, echoing the expressions of the girls on the runway . They were probably aiming for mysterious and sexy, but it usually ca me off as rude and snobby.
“I live in flip f lops,” she admits , leaning slightly across the table and cupping her hand around the side of her mouth.
“I am a complete, total, hopeless klutz. When I saw that balcony, I knew that if I wore the only pair of heels I own, I definitely would have toppl ed off the side of the balcony. N o on e would have ever seen me again.” She finishes in an exaggerated stage whisper , leaning across the table conspiratorially .
Fair enough. I’d had the same concerns after seeing a too-drunk girl go out to the balcony earlier that night . I grin at her, and her mouth opens slightly . Damn. That was d efinitely not the mouth of the girl next door .
I must have stop ped talking, because she offers a question. “So, Sampson, huh? Are you in college now?”
“I’m taking a break,” I tell her.
“A break, huh?” S he echoes my earlier question.
“Yep. A break.”
She hadn’t offered
Chapter 4
CHRIS
Of all the gin joints…
I knew it was flip-flop girl from the back of her head, although the foot peek ing out from underneath the booth definitely would have helped. She was by herself, another party refugee, although I still had no idea who she was or what she was doing in my part of town.
“Of course,” she says , sweeping her hand over the empty seat across from her. “Please.”
I jump in the booth, glancing around to find the waitress. Meeting the eyes of an older woman who had clearly been working in this particular diner for at least ten years too lo ng, I pantomime drinking coffee. S he nods , albeit with a tiny smirk on her face. It was going to be a minute before I saw that coffee.
I turn my attention back to the girl. Goddamn Sophia . Now you exiled yourself until the car comes and you’re stuck trying to make conversation with flip flops. I sigh . At least I would get to see her eyes again.
“What’s up?” I ask her. She was putting her phone away and muttering an apology about being rude. My interest was piqued—clearly a childhood with family dinners and no cell phone conversations, then.
“Not much?” Ice cold.
“Sorry. I’m Chris. I saw you in here and figured that I might as well sit rather than stand.”
It wasn’t totally true. There were a couple of stools at the counter, and I could have taken one of those.
“Of course,” she says , still staring at the table rather than at me. “I was about to leave in a minute, anyway. Just needed a little break.”
“A break, huh?”
“A break,” she confirms .
We sat in silence for a couple of seconds. I was going to have to try a little harder.
“So, I’ve never seen you before. Was that your first Sophia party?”
“Yeah. It got a little cr owded for me up there. ” She hesitates, looking at my face and shaking her head slightly. She had just made a decision, and I wasn’t sure what it was yet.
“Yeah, it does that.”
She let s out the breath she had been holding in and offers me a small smile , enough for me to remember the way the space around her had lit up when she had smiled at me from across the terrace.
“Most of us know each other from high school,” I say . “I’m pretty certain you didn’t go to Sampson.”
She laughs , and it’s a throaty sound and full of mischief . “What gave me away?”
I hesitate for a second and decide to tell the truth . “Well, I could have figured it out, because we live in a small, fairly closed-off world. Plus, Sampson only had 100 kids in each grade, so when I realized I didn’t know you, it was pretty clear that you didn’t go there. But, actually, it was the flip-flops.”
She looks down at her feet and then smiles again at me . This was certainly a change from most of the girls I knew. Their favorite facial expressions were somewhere between a smirk and a pout, echoing the expressions of the girls on the runway . They were probably aiming for mysterious and sexy, but it usually ca me off as rude and snobby.
“I live in flip f lops,” she admits , leaning slightly across the table and cupping her hand around the side of her mouth.
“I am a complete, total, hopeless klutz. When I saw that balcony, I knew that if I wore the only pair of heels I own, I definitely would have toppl ed off the side of the balcony. N o on e would have ever seen me again.” She finishes in an exaggerated stage whisper , leaning across the table conspiratorially .
Fair enough. I’d had the same concerns after seeing a too-drunk girl go out to the balcony earlier that night . I grin at her, and her mouth opens slightly . Damn. That was d efinitely not the mouth of the girl next door .
I must have stop ped talking, because she offers a question. “So, Sampson, huh? Are you in college now?”
“I’m taking a break,” I tell her.
“A break, huh?” S he echoes my earlier question.
“Yep. A break.”
She hadn’t offered