A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(44)

“Not in front of Daddy,” I warn with a mocking pout. “He’s probably already cranky.”

Sarah loops her arm through mine. “He’s pissed all right. Asked me if I was going to embarrass him tonight.”

“You should have told him yes.”

“I told him I’d already done all I could this week. But I’d try harder for the next event.”

I don’t laugh because I know that her father had probably said plenty to her tonight. I can still remember when we were in tenth grade and he caught us drinking in Sarah’s room during a sleepover. He was furious. Told her that she disgusted him. That she’d end up a drunk just like her mother’s father.

She was fourteen. But instead of crying about it, Sarah finished off the bottle of rum and I held her hair while she puked all night in her bathroom. She said he didn’t love her. And I’m not sure I’d argue.

When we come back into the huge main room, Sarah excuses herself to the bar. “I’m going to see if my boobs can get me served. Then I’m going to get the bartender’s number. If my father asks, you haven’t seen me.”

“You’ve got it,” I answer automatically. I look for Harlin and find him in the corridor holding two glasses of wine while waiting by a nude, white marble female statue—looking like he’s really concentrating on it. Especially the top half.

“Double-fisting drinks tonight?” I ask as I approach.

“It’s for you. Figured you’d come back empty-handed.” He looks back casually and passes me the glass before motioning to the statue. “Do you think her ni**les are disproportionately large?”

I step next to him, both of us staring over the naked woman in front of us. “Maybe a little,” I say seriously. “But I think it’s open to interpretation.”

“Most good art is.” Harlin lifts his glass for a sip and then turns to me, his eyes a little glassy. I wonder if he had two drinks in his hand before these. “How’s Sarah?”

“Bad.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Not unless you want to go track down some high school boys to beat up.”

He seems to consider it. “Ask me again in an hour.”

I look around the room, taking it all in. The art. The people. I’m living and everyone is seeing me. Harlin sees me. I turn to him. “Do you remember that time we went for donuts in Vancouver?” I swallow hard, suddenly scared of what he’ll say.

He smiles softly. “You mean when you dragged me to get donuts in Vancouver at three in the morning to prove they weren’t better than VooDoo’s?”

“Yeah. That time.”

“Of course. You were wearing my T-shirt and when we got back, Jeremy nearly had a coronary because he thought we’d been out drinking.”

“And you told him to relax. It was only decaf.” I giggle and suddenly, I feel light. He remembers. Even the smallest detail, he remembers.

I’m not going to become a Forgotten. I’m beating it. I smile and sip from my glass, leaning into Harlin.

He finishes off his wine before reaching over to take my mostly full glass. He downs it and then puts them both on the tray of a passing server before grabbing another one for himself. I narrow my eyes at him. “What?” he says. “You can’t handle your alcohol. And besides, they’re free.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to have twenty.”

“Sorry, Charlotte,” he says loudly enough to get a few stares from the people around us. “It’s too noisy. I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.”

“Oh my God, shut up.”

“Now,” he says, squeezing my fingers playfully, “let’s go find more naked things to stare at!”

Harlin reaches in his pocket to peek at his phone, and then slides it back in. I look sideways at him. “Who is it?”

“No one,” he says, glancing over the room and avoiding my eyes.

I tsk and reach into his pocket to take out his phone. He doesn’t try to stop me and when I check it, I see he has six missed calls. “Harlin?” I ask.

“My mom,” he answers, so I don’t bother scrolling. “Next weekend would have been my dad’s fiftieth birthday and she wants to have a remembrance. I told her I can remember him just fine, but she’s going all out.” He looks over and his face is pained. “She’s having a birthday party and making his favorite dinner. It’s sick.”

I lower my eyes and put his phone back in his pocket and in the same movement wrap myself around him in a hug. He’s not really hugging me back, but I don’t care. I get on my tiptoes toward his ear.

“I’m sorry.”

He holds me then, putting his chin on my shoulder. I hate that his mom forces these things on him, but I also hate how Harlin’s handling it. It’s like he pretends it never happened. If I could use the Need I’m sure it would tell him to deal with his grief. But I can’t force the Need to work. It only forces me.

I close my eyes, my fingers tickling the back of his neck. “We should talk about it,” I whisper.

“We’re at a charity ball,” he whispers. “Not really the bare-your-soul type of environment, do you think?” He moves his head so his lips graze my neck. “And all these br**sts seem to be staring at me no matter where I am in the room. They’re following me.”