She tore the cocktail napkin out of his hands and peered down at it. A phone number scrawled across the front in neat bubble numbers. Something white-hot and indefinable sparkled through her blood. “Tough to interpret from over here,” noted Thomas mildly. Vivienne ripped the napkin in half one way. She ripped it the other. He leaned back with the patience of a saint, reaching for his drink. Before he could so much as raise it to his lips, she’d shoved the napkin neatly inside the glass. Seltzer water sopped into the paper, leaving a pale, pulpy skin on the ice. For several seconds, the two of
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Shes so jealoussss
