Crystal bangs her palms against the table. “Let’s do shots!”
“I’m singing first,” Eryk says. “I’m going to hold onto my dignity until I’ve done at least one song.”
She snickers. “Says the man in stockings.”
“You’re just jealous because your legs have never looked this good,” I tell him.
Crystal rolls her eyes. “If your legs look amazing, it’s only because of genetics.”
Eryk makes a face and scoffs. “Genetics Do you hear yourself right now? Someone put this crazy girl in her place.”
“I’m on your side, Eryk,” I say. “You’re the perfect woman.”
Dana chuckles and relaxes a bit. The two people on either side of me are both stiff as boards. Obviously, the fun side of the booth is across the table.
“What do you think, Simon?” Eryk says, resting his chin in his hand. “What do you think is the perfect woman?”
I’d kick Eryk under the table, but I’m only a fraction of his height and can’t reach him. Instead, I settle for a Defcon glare.
Mr. Mulroney doesn’t skip a beat. “The perfect woman is the self-made woman.”
“Wow,” Crystal breathes. “I like that!”
Brendan shifts on the cushion, making the vinyl squeak. He glances at me and we catch eyes. There’s something there that wasn’t earlier. Is it anger? Disappointment?
He knows about me and Simon. He’s got to. It’s probably way more obvious than I thought it was.
“Sydney and I did karaoke once,” Brendan loudly announces. “In Myrtle Beach. Remember, Sydney?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah. That was fun.”
“Spring break,” he grins. “It got pretty wild.”
My stomach clenches. Is he trying to be suggestive or am I imagining it?
Just like the man on my right can’t give me what I want, I can’t give the man on my left what he wants.
So what is Brendan trying to do? If he’s trying to stake his claim, there’s no point. The only people I’m going home with tonight are my pansexual roommates.
“Remember the first night?” he asks me. “We stayed up all night and went skinny dipping in the pool, just the two of us.”
I clench my teeth together and simply nod. Eryk stares at Brendan like he’s bored out of his mind. Crystal is smiling, but it’s a strained one. Dana just looks confused.
“What do you do for fun, Simon?” Eryk asks, breaking into the conversation and I could have kissed him on his glossy red mouth. “Do you have a pool?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Ooh, fun. How big is it?”
“I don’t know the square footage, but it’s a nice size.”
“Let’s get drinks,” Crystal says.
Dana immediately stands up. “I’ll go with you.”
They hurry for the bar. A young Asian woman with long hair takes the stage. A Madonna song from the eighties begins, the lyrics scrolling down the screens above and behind the wannabe singer.
“Do you always hang out with your assistants?” Brendan asks, looking at Mr. Mulroney. His tone of voice is pleasant but hidden underneath it is a scathing attitude.
“Only the best ones,” Mr. Mulroney tersely replies.
Brendan chuckles. “I wouldn’t think you’d have much fun with them. They’re so much younger than you.”
I turn my torso towards Brendan, hardly able to believe the nasty attitude coming from him.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask him. “That Dana and I are stupid?”
He blinks and jerks back. “What? No. I was just saying…”
I cut him off. “That’s exactly what you made it sound like. And, for your information, Simon’s not much older than us. He’s thirty-one.”
Brendan’s face reddens slightly. Eryk presses his hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing. I shoot him an angry look, but he just continues to chortle into his palm. This night is going downhill fast.
I turn to see how Dana and Crystal are doing with the drinks, but Mr. Mulroney is blocking my view of the bar. His blue eyes are soft, and they slide up and down my face.
I almost lean forward and kiss him, despite everything. Our faces are only inches apart, our legs pressed together underneath the table.
His fingers pressing against the small of my back make me suck in a breath.
I hate that he does this. He takes whatever he can manage to from me, then stands there and watches me come undone. And in the end, I’m left with nothing but longing for things to be different. It’s like that each time and yet I keep going back for more; keep gravitating towards the pain like a moth to its fiery death.