Page 62 of Ladybirds

“Please, please stop. Millennial slang isn’t for people over a hundred.”

Seth shrugs, his smile refusing to dim. “You know, depending on how you choose to look at it, I’m only four years your elder.”

Sara starts, her amusement fading into surprise as her buzzed brain finally catches up to the math. “You’re twenty-six?!”

“I’m not sure if your response to that should invoke pride or if I should feel insulted.”

“No, it’s just, you seem older is all.” Her words catch up to her, and she shakes her head. “I mean, obviously you are older. I just—ugh. You know what I mean.”

“Despite your blabbering, somehow I do.”

The alcohol is still making her head fuzzy; bolstering her courage and trampling her reservations. She stares at him—the smooth skin of his cheek, the absence of wrinkles and crow’s feet lining his face—and feels foolish. Of course he isn’t much older.

But then she meets his eyes, remembers the depth of them, and feels her pulse quicken. It’s his eyes that give him away.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “You are aware that you’re staring?”

Mostly, but she’s really too tipsy to care. “I’ve been getting a lot of compliments on my dress.”

He huffs on a laugh—because of the sudden change in topic or the way some of her vowels slur, she can’t be sure. “I have impeccable taste,” he hums, hands disappearing into his pockets.

She frowns. “You know, there’s something I can’t figure out.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you couldn’t see it on the rack. And I know for a fact I never pulled it out to give it a better look.” Her gaze slides to his, fingers playing with the lace at her collar. “I can’t figure out how you knew to pick it.”

In their corner, the lighting is dim at best, but she swears she sees the muscles in this throat work around a swallow. “Yes, quite the mystery.”

She bites her lip, smiling. “Right? It was almost like you had scoped the place out before we got there.” Her eyes find his. “But that would be ridiculous.”

He shifts, looking away. “Ridiculous. Definitely ridiculous,” he mutters, so low Sara barely catches the words.

She leans back, head tipping upward as she sighs. The brick is cool against her flushed skin, the club lights flashing behind her eyelids as she wills the world to slow down for just this one moment.

“It looks lovely on you, by the way.”

She opens her eyes, head turning to look at him. He’s staring out over the dance floor, expression neutral. For a moment, she wonders if he never said anything at all—if she imagined it. Then he meets her gaze in a fleeting glance, before darting away, and Sara knows she heard him correctly.

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer than it should be considering their surroundings. It’s only his subtle nod, the way his hands fidget in his pockets, that assures her that he heard. There’s something between them—so thick she feels like she could almost reach out and touch it—but with the alcohol blurring the edges of her thoughts she can’t figure out a name for it.

Sara’s lips part, but before she can find the words, she hears Jen shouting her name and weaving her way through the crowd.

“Sara! Come on! It’s our jam, girl!” Jen grabs her hand, pulling her back into the fray of people. Sara only has time to glance behind her once, but the sight of him—leaning casually against the brick with his eyes dark and his lips tipped into a soft smile—haunts her for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sara loves her classes.

Of course, that might be the misery from the previous semester casting an extra glow to the current one. Still, she can find nothing but enthusiasm for the assignments (even though it’s filling up her days faster than she ever imagined). She had always preferred landscape photography over anything else—the scenery always seems a lot easier to deal with than people—but most of the projects this final semester are done within the studio.

Which, on one hand, at least means she isn’t having to scout out settings. Unfortunately, it also means she has to deal with managing all the little things nature usually provides for her—lightings, backdrops, etc.

It takes up more time than she expected, keeping her busy when helping Jen with wedding preparations doesn’t. She does manage to combine the two when she offers to take some studio portraits of Jen in her wedding dress (she can safely say that working with models is her least favorite thing about her classes, so when she can do her assignment with friends it’s an instant win in Sara’s book).

Jen’s enthusiasm helps.

The pictures come out beautifully—the red of her wedding dress is a perfect match for the color assignment—but after they’ve packed everything up and headed to the campus coffee shop, Jen’s mood shifts.

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