Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(33)

“You sound like a fortune cookie,” I teased, but her words created a hollowness inside me. I couldn’t explain why I wanted Hunter. I just did. I just knew he was it, that thing I had been reaching for since . . . since forever.

Like she could read my thoughts, she asked, “Why does it have to be Hunter?”

The question pried too deep. It brought to mind my mother and a stuffed bear, two things I could never get back. “Oh, I don’t know.” I cocked my head and sharpened my gaze on her. “Why does it have to be Harris?”

She blinked, startled by my quick retort. I sighed and glanced to the window, regretting my defensiveness.

“I’ve been with Harris since high school,” she answered evenly.

I nodded. I wasn’t trying to imply her relationship with Harris was somehow lacking. What did I know about relationships? From everything I had seen, Harris was a great guy.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’ve been here going on two years now without a date. And you never dated in high school. Maybe you should go out with other guys rather than pinning all your hopes on Hunter.”

The words were hard to hear . . . especially considering how accepting Emerson and Georgia had always been of my determination to have Hunter. Suddenly I felt cornered. I drew my knees up to my chest and scooted back on the bed until my spine aligned with the brick wall.

“They haven’t exactly been lining up to ask me out, Georgia.”

“Because you haven’t wanted them to. Guys need a little encouragement, and you haven’t exactly been putting out an ‘I’m available’ vibe.”

I crossed my arms, unable to deny that but still not liking to hear it. “Well, I am now, aren’t I?”

She angled her head. “With this bartender? He’s supposed to count? I thought he was just a hookup.”

I buried my head in my hands and groaned. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“I found it!” Emerson sailed back into the room. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Now hurry up and shower!”

Georgia smiled. I grabbed my shower caddy and robe, content to leave the quasi-serious talk behind.

Emerson did a little dance. “We’re going to break some hearts tonight!”

Just as long as it wasn’t my heart.

The bar was its usual meat market for a weekend night—meaning standing room only. Clusters of guys and girls milled around, talking and drinking. But their eyes were always moving. Scanning. On the hunt. As soon as we entered, guys made eye contact and tried to engage us in conversation.

Emerson stopped just inside the front room, where the aroma of fried pickles enticed me even after the dinner we’d just had at the new Thai place. “What’s your plan?”

I glanced from her to the hot press of humanity all around us. Even as cold as it was outside, the faces were flushed from the warm room. And perhaps the free-flowing alcohol had something to do with it, too.

I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see to the bar. “I think I’m just going to walk right up to him.”

Emerson arched an eyebrow. “That’s direct. And not exactly you.”

“No point delaying.” Not after the last time I was in here. I wasn’t going to fake memory loss. I ran away from him. He was probably finished with me now.

“Good plan.” Georgia nodded. “No games.”

We made our way toward the bar. I glimpsed Reece through the shifting cracks between bodies as we got in line. I stood on tiptoe, trying to gain a better view, catching only the curve of his head, the dark shadow of his closely cropped hair.

Gaze still on him, I spoke to my friends. “I can handle it from here.”

“You sure?” Em didn’t sound convinced.

“Yeah.” For some reason, even though they knew everything that had transpired up until now, humbling myself before Reece was something I didn’t want to do in front of them.

Emerson scanned the crowded room and pointed. “There. We can get that table.”

A quick glance revealed that the table was occupied by two guys who were already ogling Emerson in her miniskirt. Georgia followed her through the throng, leaving me in line. I waited patiently, creeping forward until I stood at the counter.

Reece’s back was to me. I watched the dark fabric of his T-shirt stretch as he bent and then straightened. When he turned around, his gaze landed on me. He stilled for a moment, his light blue eyes sharpening. “What are you doing here?”

I moistened my lips and looked self-consciously at the people squished on each side of me, not happy about publicizing our conversation but not seeing any other choice.

Ignoring everyone else, I spoke over the din. “I wanted to see you.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow—the one with the piercing—as he filled the pitcher. “Yeah? Funny, considering the last time we talked you ran off like someone shouted ‘Fire.’ ”

He handed off the pitcher and collected money from a customer, a girl who looked me up and down like I was something dirty stuck to the sole of her shoe.

I glared at her until she moved on and then looked back at Reece. “That wasn’t exactly a conversation.”

“No?”

“It was more like an inquisition.”

His lips curved in a twisted semblance of a smile. “Call it whatever you like. I’ve got you pegged now, Nice Girl.”