Page 70 of Live for Me

I laughed.

And I didn’t really know why.

That wasn’t even remotely funny.

“That’s the cutest sound I’ve ever heard. You just get better by the second.”

I laughed again. For no discernible reason.

I watched in what should’ve been horror while my own hand reached out toward him. When it landed in the center of his chest, I fucking giggled.

Squishy.

He was squishy.

I’d touched Utah here before, too. There were no squishy pieces to Utah, though.

I almost panicked when I had to stop and wonder if I’d said any of that out loud.

But this new man was still smiling. I couldn’t imagine he’d smile if he’d been able to hear any of that.

“You need a drink?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Anything you want, gorgeous.”

“Anything thatisn’tWild Turkey.”

He flagged down a waitress and ordered something while I tried desperately to locate Utah. He wasn’t at the bar anymore, but I could feel the man. I could feel the weight of his eyes. I just couldn’t find him. Everything inside me knew he wouldn’t leave, but not being able to see him was unpleasant.

I devastated myself when I started to wonder if he’d found a girl in here somewhere. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I believed that. But he could easily keep an eye on me and still entertain his own desires while I was over here making a fool of myself thinking that I could make him jealous.

A very full glass of something was placed in my hand while I was trying to tell my brain to stop picturing the kinds of things Nevada would do with a man like Utah. I tried hard to focus on what Trista might do if she’d set out on an evening of making Jersey jealous. I downed the first half of whatever was in the glass in my hand before I looked back at my new friend.

“Thank you,” I choked out through another round of burning for my throat.

“You here alone?” He asked.

“My friend is here somewhere.”

“Out celebrating something?”

“First time in a bar,” I admitted before immediately wishing I hadn’t. It was no business of his.

“Don’t tell me it’s your birthday?”

“It is not my birthday,” I said a little more sternly than I really meant to. He looked every bit as confused as I felt about whatever was happening here. This was awful. People did this willingly and for fun? This didn’t feel fun—this felt like torture. If this man walked away in the next twelve seconds, I wouldn’t even be able to recall what his face looked like, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the way that Utah’s face had looked when he’d smirked at Nevada.

“Well, how is it?”

“How’s what?” I asked, becoming intensely annoyed that he was still here, interrupting my thoughts.

“Your first bar night,” he said and laughed.

“It’s gross.”

He laughed again. “You just haven’t had enough to drink yet, pretty girl.”

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