Something Blue Read Online Free PDF Page A

standing on Prince Street, in the cold, ready to call it a night. Rachel and Claire left first, sharing a cab to the Upper East Side. Jack’s friends took off next, determined to find their party. So there Jack and I were alone on the street. I was buzzed, and Jack looked so smitten that I threw him a few harmless kisses. It was no big deal. It really wasn’t. At least it wasn’t to me.
    Of course, eager little Jack called me repeatedly the next day, leaving a multitude of messages on my cell. Eventually, I phoned him back and confessed that I had a serious boyfriend, and that he couldn’t call me again. I told him I was sorry.
    “I understand,” he said, sounding crushed. “Your boyfriend is a lucky guy… If you ever break up with him, give me a call.”
    He gave me his work, home, and cell number, and I absentmindedly scribbled them on the back of a Chinese take-out menu that I ended up tossing later that night.
    “Okay. Great. Thanks, Jack. And sorry again.”
    As I hung up, I felt a twinge of guilt and wondered why I had kissed Jack in the first place. There hadn’t been much of a point. Even in my buzzed state, I had no delusions of real interest. The only thing that went into the calculation was, “Do I want to, at this moment, kiss this boy or not?” and because the answer was yes, I did it. I don’t know. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I just missed the early days when Dex seemed to be crazy about me. I fleetingly worried that the thing with Jack was evidence of a problem in our relationship, but then I figured that a kiss was just a kiss. No big deal. I didn’t even bother telling Rachel about Jack. It was over—there was no point in watching her mount her high horse as she had done when I cheated on my high school and college boyfriends.
    After Jack, I was the portrait of the ideal girlfriend for a long stretch, close to a year. But then I met Lair at a launch party thrown by our PR firm for a new line of hip sportswear called Emmeline. Lair was a gorgeous model from South Africa with caramel-colored skin and eyes so blue they nearly matched the aqua sweatsuit he was wearing.
    After he smiled at me twice, I approached him. “So, I have to know,” I shouted over the music, “are those fake?”
    “What?”
    “Your eyes. Are you wearing blue lenses?”
    He laughed a melodic South African laugh. “Jeepers, no. They’re mine.”
    “Did you just say jeepers ?”
    He nodded and smiled.
    “How quaint.” I studied the edges of his corneas just to be sure he was telling the truth. Sure enough, no telltale contact lens lines. He laughed, exposing gorgeous white teeth. Then he extended his hand. “I’m Lair.”
    “Leah?” I said, sliding my hand into his strong, warm one.
    “Lair,” he said again, still sounding like Leah . “You know, liar with the a and I inverted, right?”
    “Oh, Lair. What a cozy name,” I said, picturing us both curled up in a little hideaway together. “I’m Darcy.”
    “Pleasure, Darcy,” he said, and then glanced around the party that I had been planning for months. “This is quite an event.”
    “Thanks,” I said proudly. Then I threw out some PR jargon. Something about what a challenge it is to make a client a real standout in today’s competitive marketplace.
    He nodded then bobbed his head to the bass.
    “But…” I laughed, giving my long, dark hair a seductive toss. “It’s a lot of fun too. I get to meet great people like you.”
    We kept talking, interrupted at regular intervals by my colleagues and other guests. Fellow model Kimmy, who was wearing pink fleece sweatpants with a navy 69 across her butt and a matching 69 jog bra, sought out Lair repeatedly and snapped pictures of him with her digital camera.
    “Smile, honey,” she’d say, as I did my best to squeeze into her photos. But despite Kimmy’s overtures, Lair never diverted his attention, and our flirting evolved into more serious conversation. We talked about his home in South Africa. I