The guys all excuse themselves to go dance, leaving Georgia and me at the table alone. “Is your drink good?” I ask, making conversation.
“Yeah. If you want to go dance or whatever, you can.”
“Nah, I’d rather chill with you.” I shoot her a playful wink and her entire face turns pink. Fuck, she’s adorable. “So, tell me about you.”
“You know me.” She laughs, bumping my shoulder with hers. The sound shouldn’t affect me the way it does, hitting me straight in the chest. It’s genuine and sweet. No motives behind it.
“Yeah, I know you, but I don’t know you. Aside from the fact that you do web design for a living, I don’t really know anything else.”
She thinks about this for a second. “That’s really all I do,” she admits, so softly that if I wasn’t sitting so close to her, I wouldn’t have heard her. “I design websites for different businesses, maintain them… I do some graphic design…”
“What do you do for fun?”
Her eyes meet mine, and her pink lips form a frown that has me wanting to put a smile back on her face. “I guess nothing,” she says, lifting her cup and downing the rest of her drink. She cringes as she swallows, then sets the glass down. “I had this plan,” she admits. “Well, Lexi and I had this plan… We were going to find our perfect paths.”
I want to laugh at that. I learned a long time ago there’s no such thing as perfect, but from what I’ve seen, Georgia, Lexi, and Alec were raised in a sheltered, cushy life, so it makes sense she would believe perfect exists.
Not wanting to jade her with my truth, I keep my thoughts to myself. “And how’s that going?”
“Lexi found hers. She and Alec fell in love and got married and had Abigail…” She smiles brightly, genuinely happy for her sister. “And she found her calling with Through Their Eyes.”
Through Their Eyes is an art gallery that’s set to open soon. It’ll help raise money for autistic children and adults, focusing on those who are low income or homeless.
“You’re the reason Through Their Eyes even exists,” I point out. Georgia inherited an oil company from her biological father who died when she was little. She sold it for millions of dollars, making her a millionaire at twenty-one years old. You would never know it, though, when you’re around her. Especially since she still works like she needs the money—something I respect the hell out of her for.
“I provided the money, sure,” she says. “But the rest is all Lexi. From the second I shared my idea with her, she made it her own, which is what I wanted. That gallery is going to do amazing things for a lot of people.”
“But…” I prompt, sensing one coming.
“It’s hers, not mine. She found her path, but I haven’t found mine. And since she moved out, I haven’t really been looking.”
“What interests you? Besides web design.”
She ponders my question for a few seconds. “I like reading… and watching cooking shows,” she says with a laugh. “And eating.”
“So, you should try cooking.” I cringe when I say the words, thinking about all the times her sister tried to cook and the fire department was called because of the smoke alarm going off. Hopefully being a horrible cook doesn’t run in their family.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she laughs. “I’ve cooked a few times with my mom and I’ve never burned anything.” She winks, actually fucking winks, and my dick flexes in my pants. My guess is there’s more to Georgia, but she hasn’t allowed her true self to come out.
“Then you should definitely cook. I can be your taste tester.” I can’t even remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal, aside from the food the guys grill at the station. I can’t cook for shit, and Victoria would never even attempt it.
“What else?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s something I need to think about.”
“Well, while you’re thinking, what do you say we dance?” I stand and extend my hand.
“I don’t know…” She eyes my hand speculatively.
“C’mon,” I push. “We’ve danced together before and I was a complete gentleman.”
“All right,” she says, giving in and placing her hand in mine.
As I escort her to the middle of the dance floor, I push away any thoughts of how perfect her hand fits in mine, wondering what the hell I’m doing.
Georgia
What the heck am I doing? One minute, I was updating a website, considering if I should order Chinese or Thai, and the next, I’m at a club, talking to Chase about my path. And now, I’m in his freaking arms, dancing with him to some old Jason Derulo song.
I’m so out of my element here. I can feel the panic attack creeping up, and I mentally beg it to stand down. My body and mind are confused, wondering what the hell I was thinking coming here—without Lexi, no less. She’s the only person who really knows me, knows every one of my weird quirks, and doesn’t judge me for them.