Page 46 of Love at First Sighting
“CARTER,” the big man bellows. “Name’s Jet. Nice to meet you.”
He holds out a hand that could dwarf my entire face and I take it. I offer him my better arm, because I don’t know what kind of steel grip this man’s got.
“And he’s with Bex,” El continues, nodding to the “British” girl. “And that’s Lea.”
I can’t figure out what Lea’s issue is yet, but she’s scrolling frantically on her phone.
“Nice to meet you all,” I say.
“Why are you wearing a fedora, Caleb?” Bex asks.
El sighs, and at the same time we say, “It’s a trilby hat.”
Bex clearly does not care, not until El clears her throat. “It’s from Britain, actually.”
“Oh! Lovely,” she coos. “Honored you’re a fan of my homeland. You know, I looked before you got here, and El isn’t following you, so I don’t know who you are.”
I don’t know how to tell a group of people who live completely online that the extent of my Instagram presence is being a lurker account that looks like a bot. The newest name is Travis McGruber, which is not my personal favorite, but it’s what the name generator gave me. Idofollow El, but Bex isn’t going to put two and two together here.
“I—” I begin, before I’m interrupted.
“He’s pretty offline,” El butts in.
“How peculiar,” Bex mutters to herself.
“I’LL CALL THE UBER,” Jet screams.
There’s no arguing with a man named Jet. Not as he hails the Uber to fit us all, not as we climb in and he asks me if I want to know his dietary routine. As I’m someone whose diet is mostly fast food and faux-gourmet meals from Trader Joe’s, I don’t know if he really wants my opinion.
“It’s corn. I eat six ears of corn every day,” he tells thegroup as we load in. The Uber driver turns around and eyes us warily. This is not how you start a positive Uber ride.
Jet immediately takes the passenger seat, leaving Lea, Bex, El, and me to take the back seat. While Bex, Lea, and El are all small, fitting four people in a row isn’t feasible or road safe. El bites down on her lip and eases herself onto my lap to make space. She laces an arm around my shoulders and holds on to my jacket as her legs cross over mine.
She is overwhelming and her lips are so close to mine as we readjust to find a comfortable position. Thereisno comfortable position when El’s breath is on my neck, her sharp perfume intoxicating me, and her body curving in sync with mine. This is going to be an impossibly long ride.
When we get to the bottom of the hill, Jet informs all of us he has an audition for an HBO pilot this week.
“Ireallythink my willingness to go full frontal is doing me favors,” he says. He’s lowered his voice to an indoor shout, and the Uber driver has cranked the music higher. He must know I’m fighting the urge to get turned on while El sits across my legs, because he’s playing egregious opera.
Thankfully, it’s a short ride to Houdini House and we’re able to unload. Jet claps the Uber driver on the back and thanks him for the ride, but I think the best thing Jet can do to thank him is get the hell out of his car. I lend El my hand as we disembark, but when she’s on her feet again, she doesn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she slides her fingers between mine and looks up with a smile meant only for me.
“El! Cameron!” Bex interrupts our nice moment with a Cockney war cry and waves us up the steps to Houdini House. “Are we going to go inside or are we going to eye-shag all night?”
Chapter 13
El
Carter looks out of place in most situations. Not here.
While Ian Forte has Terra-fied Houdini House to fit the occasion, there’s only so much you can do to cover up its true form. Houdini House is absolutely kitschy, with its wood-paneled walls, decadent chandeliers, and elaborate paisley carpeting. The inside smells of expensive alcohol, leather, and cigar smoke. I catch Carter biting hard on the gum between his back teeth.
The doorman checks for our names on the list and invites us inside. Behind me, Jet is bellowing about the difference between each of his pecs, a perfect complement to the jazzy ditty playing over the speakers. This is busier than the average night at Houdini House, packed with all the tech bro wannabes and eye candy for Ian to peruse all night.
Carter glances around, like he’s stepped into an unfamiliar attraction. He’s had something tense about him since we left the Nest, and I wonder if it’s Bex’s comment about his social status poking away at him. If it is, I hope the way I brush the back of his hand reminds him that it’s him I want at my side tonight.
There’s a table of Terra Vodka bottles on ice near the entrance. A girl in a blue velvet minidress pours small shots out of a dick-shaped canister and passes us each one. It looks far more detailed and clinical in person.
“Excelsior!” she cheers.
