Sweet Nothing (12 page)

“Just as long as he makes it clear I’m not with him,” Waverly sniffs. “I don’t want him cramping my style.”

“I’ll tell him to control himself.” I roll my eyes at Gwen.

“I saw that,” Waverly says.

“Dress code?” I ask.

Waverly nibbles her lip thoughtfully. “Short dress, high heels.”

“Let me translate,” Gwen offers. “South Beach Slutty.”

A few hours and two much needed shots of espresso later, the three of us are huddled together just inside the doors of a club situated a few blocks from the beach. According to Waverly, the club is hot enough to be relevant but not so hot we can’t get in. I’ve already forgotten the name of the place—Aqua, or Salt, or Wave, or something water-related. Which is appropriate, considering the décor. The floor is almost all glass, and beneath it, tropical fish swim in neon aqua water.

“Isn’t this place great?” Waverly’s perfect scarlet lips part in amazement as she surveys the clusters of white leather banquettes and clear Lucite side tables, where bottles of overpriced vodka chill in ice buckets. Groups of tall, tanned, mannequins sip cocktails from champagne glasses, looking bored. Low house music pumps from the sound system. The ceiling above us is also glass; the bottom of the pool on the roof above. I watch the silhouettes of girls swim overhead.

“Yeah, sure. Cool theme.” I tug at the hem of my cream silk one-shoulder dress. It must be Aria’s dress, actually, since she’s always been a few inches taller than me and the dress falls just above my knee. On her, it would have hit mid-thigh. My sky-high platinum snakeskin pumps, diamond-encrusted skull ring, and patent leather clutch complete the ensemble, and my hair falls in a shiny, auburn curtain over my shoulders. “I’m just glad there aren’t so many people here that we can’t hear each other talk.”

“It’s early still,” Waverly offers apologetically. Her dress is shorter than mine—a deep plum number with cap sleeves, a non-existent back, and a feathered hem. “It’ll fill up.”

“Is Luke coming?” Gwen asks.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I texted him the address.” I’d checked my phone for the seventeenth time before we got out of the cab. Nothing. “He doesn’t really strike me as the club type, anyway.”

“We’ll have fun either way. Drinks?” Gwen leads us across the aquarium floor, impressively steady on tall black platform heels. Somehow, she manages to make high-waisted black silk trousers look sexy. I blame the skintight leather bustier. Vegan, she’d specified when she’d emerged from her closet.

The bar is patrolled by two guys and a girl, all of whom could be models and none of whom are wearing much clothing. Gwen bends over the bar, calls to one of the male bartenders, and passes us each a chilled martini glass filled with turquoise liquid to the midpoint, then with a light green liquid to the top. The drink reminds me of the bay. Which reminds me of Luke. Which makes me check my phone again. Still nothing.

“What’s this?” I ask Gwen, inspecting the martini glass.

“Dunno. I just told the guy to surprise us.”

“Only one way to find out.” Waverly raises her glass, and Gwen and I lift ours, too. “Cheers.”

The drink is sweet and sour all at once. It’s even better than the martini I had at the Allford reception at Dr. Goodwin’s house. That night was a week ago today, and already I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in Miami. I can’t believe that seven days ago, I was about to meet Luke. Seven days ago, I wasn’t sure I could start a whole new life. But now, I feel more confident than ever that Miami is where I’m meant to be.
And with Luke. You’re supposed to be with Luke
, says a tiny voice in my head. I ignore it. I can’t allow myself to think that way.

“Here we go.” Gwen finds an open banquette and we settle in with our drinks, trying not to spill. I take a long sip, until the top layer has vanished and I’m tasting the cool blue. It tastes like raspberries.

“Luke Poulos needs to get his ass over here.” Gwen finishes her drink in three sips.

“Maybe he’s out already.” Waverly’s busy flagging down one of the servers and doesn’t catch Gwen’s evil eye, but I do.

“For real, Waverly?” Gwen’s voice is shrill. “It’s not like he’s out with anybody else.”

“It’s okay!” The idea of Luke with anyone else makes my heart sink. “We’re not even really together now. We just had one date, sort of. I don’t know.” Suddenly, it’s too crowded in here. “He can do what he wants.” I resist the urge to check my phone again.

“Another round?” The girl bartender swipes our empty martini glasses and replaces them with three more glasses that are almost overflowing.

“Thanks.” I sip my new drink too quickly. I can feel the effects of the alcohol start to spread through me, start to cast a pleasant, blurry veil over my thoughts and my body.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you guys. I got an early acceptance letter for this summer program in New York,” Gwen pipes up. “It’s like an intensive nonfiction workshop type thing at NYU. Investigative journalism.”

“Gwen, that’s amazing! Congratulations!” I give her a side squeeze. “So you’ll spend the summer in Manhattan?”

“Part of it.” A shadow falls over her face for an instant, and then it’s gone. “I’ll come back toward the end of the summer. See if I can dig up a story that might be worth pitching to a real paper.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a reporter.” The back of my neck feels hot.
Be careful around her. She could be dangerous.

“Please. Haven’t you read the
Allford Gazette
?” Waverly grins. “Allford kids don’t write half the good stuff. That’s all my Guinevere.”

Gwen blushes. “Should be an interesting summer,” she says, twirling her nose ring.

“Just don’t run into that ex of yours,” Waverly says dryly.

Gwen’s jaw hardens. “Why would you bring that up?” she snaps.

Waverly’s eyes widen. “Gwennie, I didn’t mean to—”

“Never mind.” Gwen cuts her off. “You should come with me, Elle. You could hang out with family—”

“And leave me in Miami all by myself?” Waverly pouts.

“Guys.” The thought of going back to New York makes my head spin. Or maybe it’s the booze. “I have no idea what I’m doing next summer. I don’t even know what I’m doing in class next week. So can I figure it out when we get a little closer, please?”

“You’d just rather enroll in summer session with Mr. Poulos,” Gwen teases.

I don’t argue. The thought of spending an entire summer with Luke, Miami at our fingertips, does sound amazing. The thought of doing anything and everything with Luke sounds amazing. I shudder, thinking about the way his lips felt on my skin. I want more of him. Now.

The house music shifts suddenly to a heavy, thumping bass. I can feel the vibrations of Jay-Z’s newest single, buzzing through the soles of my feet.

“Ohmygosh, I love this song!” Waverly tosses back her drink like it’s a single shot. “Let’s dance. No. Let’s go up to the roof!”

“You guys go ahead,” I say. “I’ll order another round and meet you up there.”

As Gwen and Waverly teeter off, I find my way to the bar. The club is starting to get busier, and the bartenders bob and weave expertly around each other, whipping bottles from the wall behind the bar and pouring perfect shots in a dance that seems almost choreographed.

“Get you something?” The female bartender makes eye contact and offers a quick smile. There are angel wings tattooed across her chest.

“Yeah,” I yell back. “Um, three of those blue and green—”

“I got you.” She whirls around, tosses three frosted martini glasses on the bar, and starts to pour. “You come here a lot?”

I shake my head. “First time.”

“Huh.” Mid-pour, she stops, lifting her bottles upright. “Are you like an actor or something?”

“Nope. Sorry to disappoint.” I stare down at the bar, letting my layers dust my cheeks. It’s dark in here, but is it dark enough to keep this girl from recognizing me?

“That’s so strange. I could swear…” The bartender cocks her head to one side, her lips pursed in a pout. “Are you sure? CSI, or something?”

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
Please. Please don’t recognize me.

“Can you, um, have those drinks sent up to the roof? I’m not sure I can carry them all.”

She’s quiet. Around us, I can feel the bass thumping. But it seems as though everything else has gone silent. Including my heart, which has literally stopped beating. If she recognizes me, it’s over. All of it. The Allford gig, my new friends, the budding relationship with Luke. Vanished. Just like before, when my entire life evaporated in an instant. And just like before, I’m powerless to stop it.

Elle,

Can’t sleep. Still thinking about what David’s mom said at dinner. She apologized later. But it got me thinking: I’ve always been proud of the good stuff I inherited from Dad—his sense of humor, his winning good looks.
 
But what if we got the bad stuff, too? What if his kind of evil, or whatever you want to call it, is in our blood? What if we can’t escape it?

Love you for infinity,

A

The bartender stays quiet. Scrutinizing me. Dread and shame creep from the base of my skull.

“You know what? It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Thanks.” I fumble around my clutch, fingers grazing gum and gloss before I find my money clip. I peel two twenties from a wad of small bills and push them across the bar.

“Hey. I know you,” says a voice in my ear. I whirl around.

“Luke!” My heart starts up again. Then it stops. He looks nothing short of delicious in dark jeans and his usual white shirt. His skin is almost glowing beneath the lights. So is his smile.

“And you’re Elle. Only not the Elle I went out with this afternoon, because that Elle—although she looked awesome—was all sandy and drenched when I left her. And this Elle…” He drinks me in, and my worry vanishes.

“Careful,” I warn. “You’re on the verge of telling me I look so good, you don’t even recognize me.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He rests his hand on my hip and leans in to kiss me on the cheek. It’s sweet and sexy at the same time. “You look incredible,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my neck. “Really beautiful.”

I say nothing; just clutch his shirt and pull him into me. Everything in me is pulsing with need. I need Luke to press me against the bar and kiss me. I need to spend all night discovering him. I need him more than I’ve ever needed anything.

“Hey! You guys mind taking it elsewhere, so other people can get a drink?” An orange-tanned midlife crisis with his shirt unbuttoned halfway shoves past me, sending me stumbling into the bar.

Luke bristles. “Watch it, man.” He steadies me with a protective hand. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. It’s fine. Can you take these and we’ll get out of here?” Gingerly, I pass him two martini glasses so full, they spill when I lift them. I don’t care. I want to disappear before the bartender outs me to the entire club.

“Sure. Three drinks? Stocking up?” Luke smiles.

I shake my head. “Those are for Gwen and Waverly.”

“Right. Gwen and Waverly. I forgot about them.” Luke looks disappointed. “I was hoping we’d have the chance to be alone.”

“Me, too.” I bite my lip to keep from grinning like a moron. My eyes find his, sending warmth throughout my body. To certain places in particular. “Let’s drop these drinks off first, and then we can hang on our own. Do you want something?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good.”

I follow him across the crowded dance floor to a winding metal staircase that spins toward the roof. We ascend it slowly. I don’t want to spill my drink. And standing behind him gives me the best view in the whole place.

There’s another bar on the rooftop, and twice as many beautiful people, sipping drinks around the pool’s perimeter and in the shallow end.

I scan the crowd. Waverly and Gwen have settled, shoeless, on the teak deck near the deep end. Waverly traces curlicues in the water with her big toe. Beyond the roof, Miami glints like an endless case of neon jewels.

“Over here.” I teeter across the deck.

“LUKE!” The girls squeal when they see us; giddy enough that it’s clear they’ve had another round in my absence.

“Pretty good welcome.” Luke grins and hands Gwen both glasses. “I should surprise Elle at bars more often.”

“You could’ve texted back, you know.” Playfully, I elbow him in the ribs.

“Yeah. We thought you had something better to do on a Saturday night.” Gwen hands Waverly one of the drinks, and they clink glasses before I have the chance to sit.

“Something better to do than bring you drinks?” Luke teases. “Never.”

“Good answer.” I kick off my heels and lower myself awkwardly to the deck, trying not to flash Miami in the process. Gwen’s trying to mouth something to me, but I pretend not to notice.

“Here you go.” Luke settles next to me. “All set?”

I nod. “Thanks.” I like that he sits close enough that it’s clear we’re together, but not so close it will make other people feel uncomfortable. Not that anyone would notice, judging from the bikini-clad girls in the shallow end, sticking their tongues down their boyfriends’ throats between shots.