Behind His Lens(19)

“Not yet. Let’s find the guys.” She raises her eyebrow challengingly and I know I don’t want to pick this battle. I’ll just get a drink when we sit down. “Sexy ‘bonitas’ don’t buy drinks for themselves, Charley,” she adds with a silly eye-roll.

I’m not usually like this. Alcohol always reminds me of my mother, but tonight I’m pushing those memories aside and indulging in the blissful euphoria swirling around me. All I know is that before I started drinking, my stomach was in knots about seeing Jude again, but now I’m excited. I hope he’s at the table with the guys. Bring on your sexy broodiness, Jude.


“Naomi, is broodiness a word?” I ask through tipsy giggles.

She glares back at me, but I still see the hint of a smile. She’s nervous about seeing Bennett; I can feel the tension emanating from her and I wish I could reassure her of his interest but nothing I say gets through to her.

“Charley!” I hear someone call behind us, and I twist around to see Tom walking back from the bar. He’s balancing a few beers in his hand, so I assume he’s getting the first round for everyone. Everything about him puts me at ease. He’s wearing a plaid flannel button-down and his curly hair hangs over his forehead. His smile widens even more as he gets closer to us.

“You guys look great!” He shouts over the music. Bars are meant to be quiet enough for conversation to take place, but the music is always loud, forcing people to talk louder, causing a domino effect where everyone usually ends up going home hoarse.

Naomi nudges her sharp elbow into my back and pulls me out of my random musing.

Oh, right.

“Thanks, Tom. You look cute too,” I offer because it’s true. He looks happy and carefree. Just like what I plan to be tonight.

“Sorry I didn’t get you guys a drink, but I’ll walk you to the table and then head back to the bar,” he offers with a side grin.

“Sounds good,” Naomi says quickly, obviously wanting to make it to the table sooner rather than later. I’ve never seen her like this.

“Lead the way.” I gesture and fall in line behind the two of them. I stick close to Naomi so I don’t lose them in the crowd, but as I crush myself between bodies, my bracelets cling together and I glance down to make sure they aren’t falling off. I always wear bracelets and rings, having perfected the art of layering from watching the stylists do it so often. I swap jewelry out all the time, but my grandmother’s antique ring always dots my middle finger on my left hand.

“You guys made it!” I hear Bennett call in front of us with unmasked elation. He’s not playing the role of cool, calm, and collected. His emotions for Naomi read across his face like an open book, and I watch as she rounds the table to take the seat next to him. He leans in to kiss her on the cheek and Tom takes the open seat on the other side of her. Which leaves me having to pick between sitting by myself on the other end of the table or sitting sandwiched between Tom and Jude. Of course.

My eyes sweep over Jude quickly, taking in his dark jeans and white t-shirt peeking out from under his heather gray v-neck sweater. He’s got the sleeves tugged up just enough so I can see the toned muscles of his forearm. I’m practically salivating by the time I remember to breathe.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” I lean down and whisper into Jude’s ear as I take the seat next to him.

He glances up with an amused look, as if surprised by my boldness. I like that I’ve caught him off guard, as if I’m the one controlling things for a change.

I keep watching him as I string my bag along the back of my chair, expecting him to offer a retort, but I’m left hanging. Instead, he turns toward the beers Tom placed on the table. He leans forward to grab a bottle and brings it to his lips in one fluid move. His sharp gaze flits back over to me as the bottle reaches his mouth and I watch, completely enamored, as the liquid slides down his throat.

A slow, sexy grin spreads across his mouth and somehow without uttering a single word, he’s stolen all the power once again.

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” he murmurs, glancing at me through the corners of his eyes with amusement.

He’s going be the death of me.

“You’re kind of a smug bastard sometimes,” I accuse with a skeptical glare.

Did I actually just say that?

“Sometimes?” he asks, licking a drop of beer off his lips and placing the bottle back down on the table.

Drunk off cheap shots and determination, I reach forward and take the beer, repeating the same exact move he just did for me. Except I’m taking his beer and the look on his face says I’m going to pay for the rebellious behavior.