I was so preoccupied with the scene behind me that I didn’t notice Lyric had stopped walking and let go of my hand.
“Easy, Helen Keller. Watch where you’re going,” she said when I ran into her. “You almost made me spill our drinks.” She handed me a clear plastic cup filled with bright blue…something.
The bar in front of her was lined full of cups just like this one, no limit, free for the taking. The guy behind the bar was filling cups as quickly as they disappeared.
I took the drink but kept my eyes focused on my chest. My boobs spilled over the black, sleeveless corset I wore underneath my favorite leather jacket of the same color. I had cleavage, sure. I wasn’t an A-cup, but I wasn’t blessed by any means, not like Geneva. My tits would never be deemed snow-worthy. I would also never win a Grammy thanks to golden vocal cords like she did, but I was more upset about my boobs.
I cupped my free hand over one of my breasts and sighed.
Lyric placed one hand over mine and gave my boob a squeeze. “You’re perfect. Your tits are perfect. You don’t need some dude with a bad habit and greedy nostrils to tell you that.”
That was why she was my best friend. She knew what I was thinking without me ever having to say a word.
Two seconds later, she was grabbing a lemon slice from a bowl on the bar and shoving it in my cleavage. Before I could stop her, she leaned down and placed it in her mouth, taking a moment to suck some of the sour juice.
Kyle Blankenship walked up as Lyric pulled the lemon from my cleavage. He was minus the robe and mask, but my mind immediately made the connection. Kyle was the hooded guy who led us from the pavilion to The Chamber’s entrance. His eyes gave him away.
“Holy shit. That was hot as fuck. Damn, Tatum. I didn’t know you were into chicks,” he said.
“I’m not.”
His eyes bounced to Lyric, who had her full lips wrapped around the lemon and a rebellious gleam in her eyes. “So, Lyric’s into chicks?”
“Lyric is into Lyric.” She wasn’t homosexual. She wasn’t heterosexual or bisexual either. She was just… sexual.
His lips quirked up into a grin. “What about Tatum? What is Tatum into?”
Kyle was hot. He’d been a model since he was in diapers. Everything about him was flawless, from his dirty blond hair and emerald green eyes to his washboard abs and perfect ass. He was older than me by a few years, but everyone knew who he was. Any girl in her right mind would’ve answered with an immediate,“You. I’m into you.”
Not me. I brought the cup to my lips, stopping long enough to answer before I took a drink. “Why do people have to be put into boxes? Why can’t we just be into what we’re into?” Bold statement coming from a virgin who’d never even been kissed. But Kyle didn’t need to know that.
He ran his thumb across his bottom lip, and I wondered if tonight would be the night that all that changed.
The music shifted. The beat dropped low, followed by a faster background of violins and electronic sounds.
Lyric downed her drink in one long pull, then tossed her empty cup into a round plastic barrel. “I’m going to dance.” She threw a wink over her shoulder as she moved into the crowd. “You kids behave.”
Kyle started to say something, but I overestimated my tolerance for the taste of alcohol and started coughing.
I brought a hand to my chest and swallowed hard, then cleared my throat. Good God, what did they put in this stuff? It tasted the way gasoline smelled.
Kyle chuckled and took a sip of his own drink. “You don’t do this often, do you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
He smiled. “Nah. I just don’t see you out much.”
I lifted a brow. “So, you’ve been looking for me?” I took another drink. This one went down a little easier.
“You’re kinda hard to miss.”
I might not have gone out much, but I knew what flirting was, and he was definitely flirting.
“Is that why you sent me the invitation?” It was a hunch. The invitation had been placed under my windshield wiper a couple of weeks ago while I was at ballet. Until now, I’d had no idea who put it there.
“How’d you know that was me?”
I smiled. “You just told me.”