Page 99 of One Night Only
Annie drops her head against my shoulder as Soraya and Claudia start trying to harmonize to the radio. The driver ignores them with practiced disinterest.
“So…twice?”
“It was a wedding,” I groan. “People do stupid things at weddings.”
“I never said it was stupid.”
“Well, it was,” I say firmly. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“But you’re working with him.”
“He sought me out. And I’m in no position to turn down work. Besides, we’re keeping it professional.”
“You don’t have to tell me, you know,” she says suddenly. “I know we’re supposed to tell each other everything but if you want to just take it slow and—”
“Annie—”
“You do you. I mean it. After everything with your mom and what happened with Josh… Whenever you want to tell me something, anything at all, I will be here to listen. Even if I’m not physically here, I’m here. I just want you to be happy.”
I sigh at her earnest expression. “I wish you weren’t moving to Ireland.”
She drapes an arm around my shoulders in response, holding me tight to her side. We stay like that until the car finally pulls to a stop and we stumble out as Soraya pays.
My stomach growls as I look around, expecting to see Soraya’s swanky apartment building, but instead see a familiar neon green sign blaring at me from a window.
“Annie,” I warn.
“This isn’t me.”
“Whoops,” Soraya says, bumping me with her hip.
We’re at O’Shea’s.
“No,” I say as Claudia immediately heads inside. “No. You said we were going back to your place.”
“One drink,” Soraya insists, towing me after her. “The night is young and we gave all our money to the strippers.”
I stumble in my heels as we enter. The place is packed, the air warm and sweaty with people.
“We’re never going to get a seat,” I point out. “Let alone get to the bar.”
“A bit of faith, girls, please,” Soraya says, glancing around us. “Let’s use what our mothers gave us.”
Her gaze zeroes in on a group of college-aged guys lounging in the booth nearest us, two of whom are already watching her with dazed looks.
“Evening boys,” Soraya says, leaning in close to them. “Are you guys finishing up?”
“Yeah,” one of them says eagerly while his pal nods.
“Great,” she smiles. “Then you won’t mind us using the table.”
She presses through their confusion and in a matter of seconds they’re standing beside us, one still drinking his beer.
“Thanks so much,” she coos, discreetly shoving Claudia down the bench before they can realize what’s happening.
“No problem,” the eager one says, almost tripping over his feet to make room for her.
They move on, heading toward the bar but the one with the beer stays behind.
