Page 45 of Sugar Coated Lies
He grins. “It’s a bit of a walk, but worth it, in my opinion.” He sets his glass on the bar counter and walks to the lawn, headed toward a sea of wooded shadows, brightened only by silver moonlight.
In a hurry, I slam my drink, almost gag at the burning in my throat, and chase after Daire.
Walking in wedges on the thick mowed lawn causes problems with my balance. I’m teetering, and I’m not sure if it’s from being tipsy, the lumpy grass, or both.
“Hang on,” I call out.
Daire returns to me as I struggle to stand while removing my shoes. When that doesn’t work, I step closer to him and touch his arm for balance. “I need your support for a second.”
I manage to remove both wedges and have the urge to chuck them back toward the glowing fire pit area.
“Thank you for making it to this, by the way.” He nods at the house in the distance.
“No problem.” I stumble and stifle a giggle. Thank God he’s not looking at me. “I’m ready,” I say, drawing his attention.
“Good.” He nods and walks off, stuffing his hands in his pocket, his gaze fixed forward in the direction we’re walking.
The path seems unobstructed by the shadows of trees on either side, but I can’t make out where the lawn ends and the lake—or anything else, for that matter—begins. If a cloud were to cover the moon, we would have to use the flashlight function on our phones to see. I would use mine now, but Daire doesn’t seem at all worried about where we’re going.
The chatter and music from the party fades, then disappears, replaced with sounds of crickets and other wildlife.
“So…?” Daire says, but doesn’t elaborate.
“So…?” I repeat.
“I never asked if you have a boyfriend. You might have wanted him to join you tonight.”
I laugh with a little too much enthusiasm. “No boyfriend. I don't really have time for dating.”
“Hmm.” He sends me a thoughtful gaze. “What about when you were in college in Savannah? I can’t imagine you weren’t asked out in college.”
“Is there a point to these questions?” Normally, I wouldn’t be bold enough to ask this of him or anyone I work for, but liquor has made me brave—or dumb.
“Just curious, I guess.”
Curiosity, perhaps born from alcohol like my newfound boldness. What could answering hurt? “I dated but nothing ever turned serious.”
“Same with me.”
“Really?”
“You sound surprised?”
“I am.”
“Why?” He glances up at the starry sky.
“I don’t know.” I stumble and almost drop one of my shoes. “I just assumed you would have girls fighting to be your girlfriend.”
“I could say the same about you. I can’t imagine guys not asking you out regularly in high school and in college.”
I snort, the sound very unattractive. “I had one steady boyfriend in high school. We weren’t soul mates or anything. It was more fun than true love. When we graduated, we went our separate ways. Me to Savannah, and him to Tennessee on a football scholarship, never to be heard from again.” I shrug. “I didn’t even cry when we broke up, like I knew our time together had ended. People come and go from your life for different reasons. Some you miss and ache to see again—if you let yourself. Some you just know are passing by.”
He stops walking, and the moon brightens enough for me to notice he’s staring at me with sad eyes.
I teeter around more than stop. “Sorry. That was a bit of a downer.”
“Everleigh, how do you handle everything you’ve been through without falling apart?”
