RUSH (City Lights, #3)(32)

I snorted a laugh but was secretly glad the topic was dropped. The idea of an audition didn’t thrill me or give me butterflies like auditions had in the past. Instead I felt dread, like a phone was going to ring and a voice was going to tell me something horrible. It didn’t make sense, but my psyche had tangled everything up for me and I didn’t know how to unravel it all.

We continued perusing, and I found myself gravitating toward bohemian-style shift dresses in colorful patterns, and billowy pants and blouses. I soon had an armful.

“Boho chic, are we?” Melanie commented.

“Looks like it. An improvement on Annabelle couture.”

Melanie held up a leather jacket, its sleeves attached by hundreds of safety pins. “I think Sasha needs this jacket. She’s always been the Sid to my Nancy. Without the drugs, punk rock, or murder.”

“She’s a lucky gal, and so am I.” I tugged her sleeve. “Come on. Lafayette’s beckons.”

“Oh yeah? You buying?” Melanie grinned. “Clearly I should give obnoxious, overbearing lectures more often.”

“Don’t push it.”

*

At Lafayette’s, around the corner, we sat by the window at a white-clothed table and were presented with the little bistro’s mid-day menu. Melanie’s eyes widened at the numbers. “How do you say ‘out of my price range’ in French?”

“I don’t know. If Noah were here, we could ask him. He’s fluent. Lucien, the guy who hired me, taught he and his sister, I think, since they were little.”

I glanced up into a sudden silence to see Melanie watching me curiously. I waved my hand at the menu to distract her. “And don’t sweat the prices. I got this.”

“You sure?”

“I’m celebrating my liberation from the customer service industry.”

“Speaking of celebrations,” Melanie said slowly, “Regina set a date for her next musical shin-dig. May 20th. That’s in a few weeks.”

“Melanie…”

She held up her hands innocently. “Just putting that out there. Let’s get a waiter over here and order overpriced raw fish salads and talk about Noah Lake instead.”

I blinked at the sudden change of topic. “What’s to talk about?”

Melanie’s dark eyes bore a mischievous glint. “Oh, how about how fluent he is in French? Or maybe how your whole face lit up at the mention of his name.”

“It did? No, it didn’t.”

She blinked cheekily at me. “So?”

“So what?”

“So now you’re blushing.”

I forked an olive from a little dish between us. “Look, he’s…hot. That’s just a fact. And as a warm-blooded human woman, I can’t help but appreciate that about him. But given that I’m still a mess over Keith, I’d be an idiot to think about getting involved with someone right now. And Noah doesn’t want to get involved with me, trust me. Between the two of us, we’d need a forklift to carry all of our baggage.”

“Well, there’s ‘getting involved’ and then there’s ‘mind-blowing meaningless sex.’” Melanie smiled slyly.

I waved my hands, laughing. “No, no…You know me. I don’t do the casual sex thing. I need it to mean something real. I can’t go back and give my first time to someone worthy, but I can make the second one count.” I heaved a sigh. “I do miss sex, though. Not that I’m a pro or anything. Not that Keith was any good at it.”

Melanie rolled her eyes and tore a hunk of bread off the roll in the middle of the table. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“But I do miss it. With Keith there was always the possibility that it would be mind-blowing, but it just never happened and I was too ecstatic to be doing it at all to complain.”

“And now you’re living with this Noah guy—alone. The possibilities haven’t crossed your mind?”

“Aren’t you the same person who warned me to put a lock on my door?” I asked dryly. “Besides, he’s my boss, in a matter of speaking, and that’s just asking for trouble, on multiple levels.”

“A brilliant non-answer, if I ever heard one.”

“No, it’s not like that,” I said. I wanted to tell her we weren’t like that. Noah and I were like planets orbiting the same star: on similar trajectories but only crossing paths once in a great while. “Besides, he would never consider me.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

“He used to date supermodels, Mel.”

“So? Are you saying you’re not his type, or that he’s out of your league? Because the first I might believe. People have types. But the second is pure horseshit, my friend. You’re gorgeous. And I’m certified to tell you that with all the authority vested in me as a lesbian woman.”

“Oh, stop. You know what I mean. Certain guys want their women to look a certain way, and given Noah’s dating history, it’s obvious I’m not in his category.”

Melanie’s sly smile returned. “Mmm, given it a lot of thought, have we?”

I threw an olive at her. “He’s not about to date anyone anyway. He won’t even step out of the house.”

“Maybe he just needs proper motivation.” She popped the olive into her mouth. “Put his hands on your boobs and see what happens.”