Entry-Level Mistress - By Sabrina Darby Page 0,34

to me, shaking her head even as she laughed.

“Ok, are you PMS-ing or something?”

“No, I’m epiphanizing.”

“Ah, that’s OK then,” Leanna said, laughing, “You can share your wisdom later, after you’ve tagged Craig’s installation.”

I laughed, picked up the can of red spray paint, and shook the thing idly. I wasn’t skilled at graffiti, by any stretch, but I drew on my best calligraphy and started a stylized version of “Emily was here”.

I stepped back, watched Leanna shake a can and let loose on the screen. Not such a bad idea on Craig’s part after all. I moved my hips to the drummer’s beat, finally relaxing into the night. My old clothes, my old scene, but a newer Emily.

• • •

“Is that Daniel?” Leanna asked a few minutes later, grabbing me and whirling me around. I followed my friend’s pointed finger, caught his familiar form as he stepped up the stairs.

“He came,” I said, shocked.

“Uh, yeah, and it looks like he’s leaving.”

Leanna’s words galvanized me into action, and I reached into my purse for my phone even as I slipped through the crowd.

Had he not seen me? Had he just not liked the scene? And what was he doing here in the first place?

I stumbled out into the heavy, humid night air. There was a line to my left, a crowd of college kids and even what looked like high school kids trying to get in. To my right, Daniel was walking down the street, away from me.

I ran after him, fast in my flat, fashion sneakers.

“Daniel!”

He stopped. I skidded to a halt, too, watched the tension as his shoulders lifted and lowered before he turned. He had probably hoped to slip away before I had any idea he had come. What was going on?

“Why are you leaving?”

“Not my scene,” he said coldly. His tone sliced through me but I ignored the stupid pain. I couldn’t react until I had more information and whatever was going on here required a light touch.

“Of course it isn’t,” I said, laughing, shaking my head. “But you knew that before you came. Why did you come? I thought—”

“You helped me make my decision at lunch.” Pleasure at his words washed over me despite the coiled tension. “There was only the matter of numbers to finalize.” He paused. “But I should have known better than to come out of pity.”

The pleasure dissipated instantly. So did the light touch.

“Pity? You’re joking, right?” In the orange glow of streetlamps, I tried to scry his expression, but it was like he’d turned to stone.

“You’re a little kid, Emily. Playing at life. Getting excited about crap music—”

“This isn’t even the band yet!” I threw my hands up in exasperation.

“With people who don’t have any potential to reach any higher.” That was condescending. But when he fell silent, I didn’t have any words ready. I didn’t even know what we were arguing about. Except, it felt like he wasn’t just trying to leave this club or this moment. There was something else going on here.

“What about me?” I took a stab in the dark. “Do you think I have potential? You said I did, at my apartment. We were already having sex, so you didn’t have to lie to get me in to bed.”

He took on that distinct expression of a guy faced with an idea from a woman he had never considered. Relief filled me. I moved on.

“I’m not a kid.”

It was only the smallest movement of his lips but I caught it. So that was it. Then he took a deep breath, the stone of his façade cracking. I took a breath too, bracing myself.

“What you said earlier today, about me being a cradle robber—”

“It was a joke!” I interrupted, laughing.

“But there’s truth to it.”

“Daniel, we’ve known this since the beginning. I’m old enough to drink, remember?” Exasperation laced my words. He’d done an absolutely sweet thing by showing up here tonight and then he was ruining it with this stupidity, fighting about something even he couldn’t really care about. But maybe that’s what this was all about. Maybe he didn’t want to do something nice for me.

“The age difference … You’re so young.”

Despite the rationalizations I was making in my mind. He was infuriating me.

“Why am I too young?” I demanded. “Was Tatiana too young?”

“Tatiana?”

“I met her, you know, last week. She didn’t know who I was, of course, but it was at this party Leanna invited me to. She was drunk and fighting.”

“Yes, that would be Tatiana,” he