Faking It (Losing It, #2)(17)

I blew her an exaggerated kiss, and waved at the new girl on the other side of the bar to let her know I was leaving. Then I hopped off my platform.

I pushed through the crowd of people trying to was lflacy and short,





9

Cade

Max was . . . unearthly. Ethereal. Unattainable.

Her pale skin glowed under the low amber light. I didn’t know where to look as she danced. I wanted to memorize all of her. Her eyes were lined with dark kohl that made the blue of her eyes shine and pierce straight through me. I’d seen the branches of her tree tattoo and now the roots. Imagining the art that lay between was maddening. She bore other tattoos, too small for me to identify. From here they resembled runes or hieroglyphs, like she was a goddess. Exotic and forbidd@My">FINDING ITen.

Immortal.

That was what she looked like. She was the kind of sight that I would never, could never forget.

The few times her eyes met mine, my blood pumped furiously through my veins, I clenched my fists, and had the urge to do something crazy. I wanted to walk up to her platform and join her, or throw her over my shoulder and take her away where no one else could see her.

I’d always thought of myself as a fairly rational person, not one to be ruled by my desires and emotions. But this . . . nothing was logical about the way this girl made me feel. I’d gone crazy. All the stress of everything with Bliss and moving and this new university—I’d finally snapped.

That was the only way I could explain why I followed her outside when she went on break. I had no idea what I was going to say or do, but I couldn’t let her out of my sight.

She said, “Hey, Golden Boy,” on an exhale, smoke curling from between those ruby red lips.

“Hey, Max.”

She walked away from the bouncer, and leaned up against the brick of the building. My eyes snagged on her leg as she propped a heel up on the wall behind her. I forced myself to look away. She was sexy as hell, but I was sure she got enough guys ogling her here.

“Are you stalking me, Golden Boy?”

I stayed where I was, careful to keep distance between us, so that I didn’t do something stupid in my drunken state.

“Only a little.”

She laughed. That was good. I’d made her laugh.

“What are you really doing here? I’ve never seen you at Trestle before, and I’m here more than I’m home.”

I filed away that information for later.

“I’ve never been here. I came with a friend.”

“The Hispanic guy?”

I nodded. “His name is Milo.” I searched for something else to say, but my mind was moving too slowly. God, could I be any more boring? No wonder she called me Golden Boy.

This was a terrible idea. The silence between us stretched into awkward territory, and I was too drunk to hold a decent conversation. The longer I stayed, the harder it became to fight off the urge to touch her.

Time for a tactical retreat.

“I should probably go find him.” She frowned and stared at me as I took a step back. “I only came to say hi.” She looked at me for a second longer, and her eyes widened in shock. Then her lips turned downward, and I saw her disappointment seconds before she swept the emotion from her expression.

I looked behind me expecting to see a mugger or a UFO or a zombie. We were alone on the street except for the bouncer, who stayed silent and still outside the door.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

My curiosity was too strong to turn around again.

“No, tell me. What was that look for?”

She took a deep inhale, and lowered her heel to the ground.

“It’s nothing. I just realized something is all.”

“And what did you realize?”

Her eyes, her eyes met mine” drink were still wide, and she sputtered slightly. “I, well, I just realized that you’re in theatre.”

I was drunk, but I could tell that when she’d said “theatre,” she meant something else. “Yeah, I told you I was an actor this morning.”

Her heel scraped at the concrete sidewalk.

“You could have told me the rest, too.”

The alcohol must have been preventing some of the synapses in my brain from firing because I had no idea what she was talking about.

“The rest?”

“You know, your friend, Milo. You could have told me about him. I wouldn’t have judged.”

The pieces were coming together, but I wished they weren’t. This was one puzzle that I did not want to solve.

“I’ve had a lot of alcohol,” I admitted. “But if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you’re wrong.”

She pushed off from the wall and took a step closer to me.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone, Golden Boy.”

I winced. She patted me on the shoulder, and I grabbed her hand and held it between us. “No, Max, I’m not gay.”

She held her other hand up and said, “Jesus, I get it. You love boobs.” She said this loudly, and then leaned close to me to whisper, “But really, Golden Boy, it’s the twenty-first century. The world won’t end if you come out of the closet.”

Two thoughts crossed my mind—one involved a lot of yelling.