Page 32 of Marlowe Banks, Redesigned
“You left the freckle,” he said, a low, delicious, breathy rumble.
“An ironic choice for Adelaide, since you have a real freckle on your ear.”
“You noticed that?”
“Occupational hazard.”
“Bullshit.” His smile quirked up, familiar by now and yet not. Amusement? Check. Smugness? A little. But also that knowing quality, as though the time he’d spent studying her had yielded answers. The thought was terrifying. It was also exhilarating. Or it would be, if they weren’t playing a game while his girlfriend waited back at the bar.
Right. His girlfriend.
Marlowe blinked herself into awareness and backed away.
“I think we can safely say I completed the assigned task,” she said.
His brows lifted. “I don’t think we cansafelysay much of anything right now.”
“Stop flirting with me. It’s not funny.”
“It’s not meant to be funny.”
“Don’t say that. If you mean it for real it’s even worse.”
“Wow. Seriously?” His forehead furrowed as his smile flattened.
She continued backing up, letting the crowd swallow her.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” she said. “I should… I’m going to go.”
“Marlowe, wait!” He reached toward her but she was already on her way.
She elbowed her way through the crowd, mortified she’d let lust, alcohol, and latent teenage fantasies override her common sense. Maybe it was only a dance, but she couldn’t claim she didn’t want it to be more, and that was where her transgression lay. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t her. At least, it wasn’t who she wanted to be. Fangirl number two hundred and whatever, drooling over a guy who was way out of her league. A guy who turned a private conversation into a social media ego boost. A guy who treated flirtation like light entertainment. A guy with a girlfriend. A really,reallynice girlfriend.
Marlowe avoided the bar area, darting straight to the table where theHeart’s Dinercrew was still gathered, their table packed with half-empty glasses in every size and shape. She grabbed her blouse off the chair back and edged her way over to Cherry.
“I’m heading out,” she said. “Thanks for the celebration.”
Cherry held her at arm’s length. “Whoa. Wait a sec. You okay?”
“Yeah. No. Sort of. I’m ready to go. That’s all.”
“Let me drive you. Just give me a minute to make sure everyone’s covered.”
Marlowe almost laughed. The cars that’d been so convenient a few hours ago were now a liability as drivers and rides needed sorting in a city without a subway. Score one for New York. And speaking of scores… She glanced across the table. Maria was laughing at something with Patrice, sneaking a sideways glance at Cherry. So cute.
“Seriously. Stay,” Marlowe said. “I’ll grab a Lyft. We’ll catch up on Monday.”
After a quick round of hugs and goodbyes, she made her exit, found a bench outside, and booked a ride. She tried to wait patiently, staring out at a sea of parked cars, but her buried wants and needs had exploded on the dance floor and they demanded her attention. She wanted to be held. To be kissed. To be touched in tender places that made her shudder and moan. Instead she was on her way home alone to face the creepy owls and the beige emptiness. She knew Angus wasn’t really a possibility, only a fantasy stoked by alcohol and too much eye contact, so she opened her phone.
Kelvin: You know this isn’t right. Can we at least talk about it?
She started typing a reply but her phone was whisked from her hand.
“Friends don’t let friends drunk-text exes.” Cherry held Marlowe’s phone out of reach, staring down at her like an angry schoolmarm.
“How did you know?” Marlowe asked.
“Because you have ‘bone me now’ written all over you. Whichwould be fine if you were leaving with a hot and charming dude who was super aware of the rules of consent. But you disappeared for over an hour so you were obviously connecting with someone, only now you’re bolting on your own.” She lowered the phone.
