“That would make it all easier, wouldn’t it? If everyone just wore their status and what they were looking for?” I took a sip of my wine. “Would save a lot of time and mixed signals.”
“Gay bookworm seeking athletic man,” Angela said, waving her hand as if across a billboard.
“Playboy looking for a one-night stand,” I added.
“Straight woman looking to experiment with a very non-straight woman.”
I snorted. “You’d be all over that one.”
“What would yours say?”
I cocked my head. “I don’t know. Maybe… Deformed dreamer seeking adventurous boyfriend.” I paused. “Who’s funny and handsome and not afraid to be sensitive.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, but when I looked at Angela, her brows were bent together, eyes sad.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re not deformed, Harley.”
I waved her off. “I was kidding.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Well, let’s be honest — it’s true. If I ever find a boyfriend, he’ll have to be okay with this,” I said, holding up my right hand and wiggling my thumb and pinky. “And not everyone is.”
“Anyone who isn’t is a jackass.”
“It’s not their fault. I’m just different. Some people just don’t know what to do when they see my hand, when they meet me. They either look at me with pity, do everything they can not to look at me for fear of being caught staring, or just blatantly come out and ask me about it.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I’d get so peeved.”
“Sometimes I do. But it’s part of me, of who I am.” I swallowed, tracing the lip of my wine glass with my forefinger. “Liam kissed it, you know.”
“I knew it!” Angela hissed. “I knew you did more than just some PG-13 shower kissing.”
“Not it, you perv,” I said on a laugh, gesturing to my pelvis. I held up my right hand next. “It. My small hand.” I smiled, the memory clear in my mind. “Every finger.”
Angela’s shoulders deflated, but she smiled, nonetheless. “That’s sweet.”
I nodded, mindlessly grabbing a piece of cheese and popping it in my mouth.
“Have you talked to him since?”
I shook my head.
“Do you want to?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Well, here’s your chance.”
I frowned, snapping out of my daze to find Angela staring somewhere behind me. When I turned, I found Liam in that same dark corner he’d been in the first night we saw him here.
And just like then, he had a beautiful girl hanging on his arm.
I tore my eyes away before he saw me, angling my barstool so my back was to him.
“What are you doing?” Angela asked. “Go talk to him.”
“He’s with someone.”
“So?” She yanked on my arm until I was out of the chair. “Go say hi.”
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
The way Angela watched me, I knew she knew the answer. She just wanted to hear me say it — especially after I insisted nothing happened with me and Liam.
And really, nothing had happened.
But she and I both knew I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about him every minute since he left my bed Friday morning.
“Look, the sooner you clear things up, the better you’ll feel,” she said, turning me in place and then giving me a little shove. “Now, shoo.”
“I hate you,” I grumbled.
“Love you, too.”
I sighed, rolling my shoulders back and holding my chin as high as I could as I made my way through the crowded bar over to where Liam stood. I recognized one of the guys next to him because he’d been there last time, too. He was shorter than Liam, more pale than Liam, and stockier — with chubby cheeks and an adorable grin that revealed a singular dimple.
He was the first to notice me approaching.
“Well, hello, beautiful,” he said, standing up straighter when I made it to their group. “Please tell me you traveled across this bar all for me.”
I chuckled, looking from him to Liam, who might as well have been in another universe for how much he noticed me. He was too busy twirling a strand of the brunette’s hair on his arm, and she traced the line of his jaw, blowing a bubble with her gum and grinning up at him when it popped.
My stomach sank at the sight of him grinning down at her, too.
When I looked back at other guy, he was frowning, his eyes flicking to Liam and then to me. He offered his hand. “I’m Thomas, Liam’s roommate.”
He had his right hand out, so when I offered my left, he looked at me confused before changing hands and giving me a firm shake. His eyes slipped to where I had my right hand buried in my pocket, but he didn’t press.
“Harley Chambers,” I said in return.
“Uh, you two know each other?” Thomas asked.
“We have class together,” Liam answered without so much as glancing my way.
“Ah,” Thomas said with a smile. “Another painter. What’s your medium of choice?”