Where the Blame Lies(2)

“The one and only. She really digs him.” They both pretended to crack up, giving big, fake laughs, which dissolved into real ones. Josie grinned. “Reagan always gets her man.”

“I’ve noticed,” Cooper said, rolling his eyes. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” She was tipsy and heading toward drunk. Just where she wanted to be. She gripped the collar of her shirt and used it to fan the overheated skin beneath her clothing.

Cooper and Josie stood at the bar chatting and laughing for a little while, which helped Josie’s mood improve. Cooper attended UC too, and he worked at a local coffee shop where she and Reagan had met him over lattes and late-night studying. He was funny and sweet, always had a smile to share, and they’d gone out drinking and dancing with him a few times. He was also ridiculously good-looking, but unfortunately for her—and every other female in Cincinnati—he was not interested in the female persuasion.

She laughed as Cooper told a story about a customer he’d had earlier, her eyes meeting those of an older man sitting at a high-top table nearby, sipping a beer. He was handsome, wearing khakis and a button-down polo shirt. A young professor or a teacher’s aide. He smiled, his eyes moving down her body, and her nerves tingled. She was tempted. So tempted. He’d make her forget the melancholy that didn’t seem to want to release its hold on her tonight. He’d make her feel wanted, happy. But it’d be temporary. And temporary always ended up hurting. The thought confused her slightly. She’d never pondered that before, and definitely didn’t want to in the midst of a packed meat market. She’d come here for temporary. Hadn’t she?

She broke eye contact and took a long sip of her drink, attempting to recapture that carefree mood she’d found at the bottom of three gin and tonics and via Cooper’s charm. Cooper looked back over his shoulder where her gaze had lingered. When his eyes returned to her, his brow was raised. “Nice. Very nice.” He glanced back one more time and then leaned closer. “He’s still looking at you. Go ask him to dance.”

She shook her head, gathering her resolve. No, a one-night stand would only make her feel worse in the morning. Especially now. Don’t do it, Josie. “Nope. I’m on a hiatus from men at the moment. Especially older men.” With wives. And children. Her mood plummeted further, self-loathing rising, and suddenly her buzz soured. She felt annoyed. Sad. Lonely. The music blasted, the air felt hotter. Muggy. Everyone was too close. Jostling her, pressing, touching. She used the collar of her shirt to bring more air to her skin.

Cooper was watching her. “I think another round is called for.”

She shook her head but forced a smile. “No. And speaking of nice, there’s someone cute who’s got his eye on you.”

Cooper glanced over his shoulder at the dark-haired guy who was watching him from the other side of the bar, his head nodding slightly to the beat of the music. When Cooper caught his eye, the guy looked away bashfully and then immediately back in that age-old flirting move. “Ron. He works at the sandwich shop next to Brews. Do you mind if I go say hi and then I’ll be right back?”

“Not at all. You go. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

She pushed him. “Yes. I’m fine.”

With a smile, Cooper headed off in Ron’s direction, Ron’s face lighting up with obvious delight at Cooper’s approach. Her heart squeezed. She had a sudden desire to run for the door, to throw it open and inhale the fresh, open air. Let it cleanse her if that were possible. The crowd bore down again. Oppressive. Stifling.

She placed her empty glass on the bar and moved toward the dance floor, looking for Reagan. “You’re a bitch,” someone said from her left. She whipped her head toward the low, whispered words and saw the guy in the red shirt she’d ditched on the dance floor. He was leaning against a pillar and she blinked at him, unease skittering down her spine along with a jolt of embarrassment as she ducked into the crowd.

I am. I am a bitch, I really am.

She found Reagan a few minutes later just walking off the dance floor, her arm around Evan as they laughed. Reagan looked joyful and slightly drunk, a sheen of sweat making them both glow. “My bestie,” she said, throwing her arms around her. “You’re so pretty. Isn’t she pretty, Evan? God, you’re so pretty, I hate you.” Okay, a little more than slightly drunk. “I love this girl,” she crooned, kissing her on the cheek. Josie laughed despite her desire to get out of there.

“I love you too, Rea. I’m going to head home.”

“Home? No! We just got here.”

“I’m not feeling great.”

She gave her a disbelieving look, but before she could say anything else, Josie hugged her again. “It’s only a couple of blocks. I’ll text you when I get there.”

“I could walk you home,” Evan offered.

She met his intense gaze and shook her head. “No, seriously, you take care of this girl. I’ll text you,” she said again to Reagan, moving away from them both, Reagan’s outstretched hand dropping from hers. She blew her a kiss. “See you soon,” Josie mouthed, raising her hand and blowing a kiss back. Reagan pretended to catch it and hold it to her chest, the crowd swallowing her up as Josie turned away.

Although it was officially spring in Cincinnati, a cool night breeze washed over Josie’s heated skin and caused a chill. She wrapped her arms around her body as she began walking the short distance toward home. She and Reagan lived in an apartment in Clifton, an area of Cincinnati that rented to many of the local college students. It was close to school, and it had a decent nightlife within walking distance, one she and Reagan were enjoying thoroughly using their fake IDs. The streets were well lit and still occupied by people going to and from bars and restaurants, even though it was past midnight.