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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Chloe Liese
Read between
November 28, 2022 - January 29, 2023
Our gazes snag. Jamie breaks eye contact first, clearing his throat. “Well. Why don’t you go relax now?” “I’d rather have a cupcake.” He bites back something, then clears his throat again. “If you must. Though, fair warning, if you take it to the sofa, Sir Galahad and Morgan le Fay will probably come meowing for it.” “I’m sorry, what are their names?” Then it happens. It actually happens. Jamie smiles. It’s soft and small and crooked, but it’s there. I watch it unfurl, and my heart morphs into a gilded balloon that bursts, a shower of gold-leaf glitter sparkling in my chest.
He frowns at the cupcake. “I don’t eat sweets before dinner. No judgment, facts. You shouldn’t, either—it’s hard on the endocrine system.” “I make my endocrine system earn its keep.” Smiling around my bite, I lick icing caught at the corner of my mouth. “They’re pretty delicious if you want to keep your pancreas on its toes. No pressure to bend the rules a little, but if you do, I won’t tell a soul.” Jamie stares at my mouth before his gaze dances up and meets mine. I watch hesitation play out before he makes his decision. “Well,” he finally says, carefully peeling back the paper, “I suppose
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She sucks in a breath. “Getting handsy there, Doc. I’m not here to be examined.” “Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea,” I tell her as I lace her up. “As I said, you might have sustained podiatric trauma when you slammed your feet repeatedly into a boot that wasn’t open wide enough to take it.” I curve my fingers further, circling her ankle. “Posterior malleolus feels intact. Fibula. Medial malleolus as well. Lateral malleolus.” My thumb presses the tender front of her foot and slides up to her shin. “Talus. All right as rain.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Show-off. I bet that’s how you rope all
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The Alley is thankfully one of those old-timey establishments, not the glow-in-the-dark techno-bowling variety. I couldn’t take one of those. I don’t have the bandwidth for spaces like that. They’re a trip wire for my anxiety. “Remember,” Bea whispers, shoulder to shoulder with me. “Stick to the truth as much as possible. Keep answers short. We’re both annoyed with them.” “That won’t take any acting,” I mutter.
“I know that look,” Jean-Claude says. “What look?” I mutter, eyes still on her. “The look of a man falling hard,” he says, as if I should know this. “You don’t have to play it cool with me, West. I know how alluring a Wilmot girl is.” “Woman,” I correct him. He waves a hand. “What difference does it make?”
Jamie strolls away, but not before stashing his bowling ball, then setting his hand, warm and heavy, against my back as he passes me. It’s a fleeting touch, but it makes me feel better. It reminds me that when we pulled up to the Alley, he turned my way and bumped knees with me, making me stop from opening the door as he said, Don’t forget, when we get in there and we’re bombarded by everyone. We’re in this together.
Our dynamic needs to stay clearly defined in my head. This is pretend. It’s built on deception. The last relationship I had was built on deception, too, and God, did I do so much fucking pretending. Pretending to be happy. Pretending that I felt loved. Pretending I was okay. Deception was Tod’s bread and butter. He twisted things and warped the truth, and to sustain our relationship, I had to believe those lies. This time is different.
Trailing after me, Jules hustles to catch up. “You’re mad at me.” “Yes, Jules. I don’t like being lied to.” Her cheeks flush. “I’m sorry, Bea. I know it was twisty. But I didn’t know how else to get you to give West a chance. I tried talking to you at work, but you were so against him, this was all I could think of—” “So you and our ‘friends’ manipulated me?” I say sharply, whirling around and bringing us to an abrupt stop in the hallway leading to the restroom. “The group deception is really fucked up—” “Whoa!” Jules throws up her hands. “No, no. Our friends had nothing to do with this.”
Uncomfortable silence stretches between us as I absorb this. All my friends think Jamie and I voluntarily went on that date. This isn’t some epic group manipulation. This is my pushy sister and her equally pushy fiancé, meddling where they shouldn’t. For a moment, I think about saying to hell with this revenge scheme, but you know what? I’m tired of being a doormat for this bullshit. After Tod and I ended, I swore I’d never let someone mow me down, toy with my emotions, the way he did. I am sticking to my guns. It’s time for these fools to learn their lesson.
Maybe my grievances aren’t as extreme as I originally imagined. Maybe my revenge won’t be as grand. But this group still needs to get it through their thick skulls that they don’t get to disregard my wishes, even if their ultimate desire is for my happiness. The path to hell is paved with good intentions. Not all of them went as far as Jules, but they went far enough.
I take a long slow breath before I say, “Jules, I know you love me. I know that in your warped way this was you doing what you thought was best for me. But I don’t need that. I need honesty. I need you and everyone else in our social circle to respect that I live my life my way, and it might not look like yours, but it’s still valid.”
“West is coming toward you looking super intense. He’s—I think he just shoved someone out of the way and—” “Bea.” Jamie’s arm is around mine, tucking me against him. “Jamie!” I frown at him over my shoulder. “What are you doing?” His cheeks are pink. There’s an intense glint to his hazel eyes as he sets my drink on a neighboring bar-height table. “Stand still for a second.”
He clears his throat, lifting his head slowly. His cheeks are pink again. “Your dress, Bea. It was . . .” He swallows. “Tucked into your shorts.” A rush of heat floods my face. My shorts are cheeky boy shorts. Half of my butt is visible in them.
He slides the fabric from the band of my underwear until it flutters around my hip, covering me from anyone who’s looking. Which, as I glance around, I realize with embarrassment is half the bowling alley. “You’re covered now,” he says. “I fell on you like that because with you on top of me—” “Everyone and their grandma in the bowling alley could see my butt?” His blush deepens. “Well, yes.”
Jamie was lying out of his glorious ass when he said he’s passable at bowling. He’s a fucking beast. And I am wildly competitive. With Jamie in my clutches, I’m Gollum hoarding the One Ring, Emperor Palpatine with Anakin in his grip, Thanos wearing the Infinity Gauntlet. I am despicable.
