Page 23 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

Chapter 6

PRESENT DAY

“You can answer that,” Rian says, nodding at my constantly vibrating (and still very rice-covered) jeans. My phone’s been going off nearly the entire time we’ve been walking. I don’t know where she’s taking me, but this is the same stretch of sidewalk that I took every night when I was performing inArsenic and Old Lace.It was a fun one. Opening night had a few critics in the audience and they gave me great reviews…so great, in fact, that my name was whispered and tossed around between some of the big-rig Broadway guys. But of course, with my luck, the night they came to see me I came down with a wicked cold and couldn’t hit the F5. My understudy stepped in, and those whispers disappeared into oblivion.

I smirk at Rian, who’s still eyeing my buzzing pocket. “This is a date.”

“A man with manners.” She lifts an eyebrow and tugs on her collar. My pants weren’t the only casualty during dinner—her jacket has an unknown stain across her left side.

Theresa and I have a word for that, and I almost say it out loud, but I catch myself before it rolls off my tongue.

My pocket vibrates again, and Rian laughs at the sky. “Seriously. Someone could be dying.”

I shake my head, pulling my phone out and seeing that there were fifteen missed calls and nine new texts from Landon. I scroll to the most recent ones, really expecting horrible news.

You busy?

Only in town for a few days, man…

If you’re with a girl, bring her over. Liz and I don’t mind.

My brow furrows, and I check the name at the top. Yeah…from Landon. But it doesn’t sound like him. If he knew I was with a girl, he wouldn’t bug me. Bro code, est. 2005.

“See?” I tell her, showing my texts. “Alive and well, though maybe not for long if he keeps it up.” I laugh, expecting Rian to at least give me a pity laugh too, but she’s still looking at my screen, head tilted slightly to the side.

“Who’s Landon?”

“Friend.”

“And Liz?”

“His wife. Also my friend.”

Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “I wouldn’t mind meeting them.” A slow grin forms on her lips. “If we have time.”

“Are we going to tag some more buildings?”

She does her one-shoulder shrug, then stops in front of a black building with paint sprayed across the front doors and neon lights in the windows. The bouncer fist-bumps her and then opens the door, letting the thumping music float out onto the street.

“You up for it?”

“Thought we were getting some clothes.” I point to my rice-covered crotch.

The wind ruffles her purple hair, and she slaps a hand on the collar of my shirt and tugs me in.

“We are.”

Okay, so this isn’t a club. Orjusta club. First thing I see is a clothing section that looks like the airport souvenir shop, if the airport was in a punk town. Then there’s a tattoo parlor, a dance floor, a bar, and…

“You ever been to a paint club?” Rian shouts over the music, pointing to the painted bodies melding together on the dance floor. The sight triggers a memory that nearly knocks me over: flashes of neon paint, tangled limbs, hands sliding over pink and orange skin…that one night so long ago when Theresa gave me an in, and I didn’t take it.

“It’s been a while.” I tear my eyes away from the paint and look down at Rian’s empty hand dangling next to mine. She’s wearing a ring that rests on her thumb and hooks to another ring on her forefinger by a silver chain. I want to like this girl. I want to feel something with her. I want it so much I can practically taste the desperation.

Like ten-years-ago Alec would’ve done, I suck in a large breath and hold it before sliding my fingers down the inside of her arm. They get caught in the crease of her wrist, and I tickle the skin there lightly, playfully, wanting to feel something like victory or joy or justanything, but even when I lace our fingers together, the air feels the same around us.

Instead of letting her take the lead this time, I drag her across the room and into the punk shop.

“I’ll buy your pants, you buy my shirt?” she suggests with a cute bat of her eyes.

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