Not So Far Away (Worlds Collide The Duets #1) - LL Meyer Page 0,91

you as my girlfriend.”

I practically float up the staircase on a cloud of happiness. At the landing, he takes my hand and leads me to the right where his friends have their territory staked out at a few tables along the railing. A guy steps forward immediately, his face beaming. He holds out his arms and says loudly, “How’d you get a woman like that?”

Scott laughs as they do some weird kind of handshake that interlaces their fingers together and then pound on each other’s back. “El, this is Mikey,” Scott says in Spanish. “Mikey, this is Ellie. And she speaks better Spanish than you and I combined, so watch your mouth.”

Mike’s eyes jerk from me back to Scott and back again. “Hola, ?qué tal?” I say, giving him the proper kiss on the cheek greeting.

“No shit?!” He looks me up and down, obviously impressed . . . though I’m not sure if it’s with my Spanish, my appearance, or my height. In my heels, I’m a good few inches taller than he is. I just smile.

Others come forward and I’m introduced to a very curious group of people, guys and girls alike. They’re all welcoming, if a little surprised . . . and I now get why Scott said he feels like he stands out with his blond hair and pale skin. His friends are all Latinos, mostly of Mexican descent as far as I can tell by their turns of phrase and exclamations.

It’s obvious that these people mean a lot to Scott and vice versa. I’ve never been more thankful I don’t have problems fitting in anywhere. I love to talk and if I put my mind to it, I could charm a bear away from a bee hive.

For a while, I chat with a girl named Cindy who glowed with pride when Scott introduced her as his best friend Jorgie’s girlfriend. They’d shared a meaningful look that seemed like gratitude from her and understanding from him. I’ll have to get used to that I suppose. Friends like these, ones he’s probably known since he was a young child, have a lot of shared history that can be daunting for an outsider. After an hour, though, I’m grateful for how easy this has turned out to be. I was prepared to face ex-hookups or even the jealousy of unrequited love, but I haven’t had a hint of either.

Then my heart kindles with joy when Scott takes my hand and leads me back to the dance floor. “I promised you dancing, not boring conversation with people you don’t know.”

“They’re not boring and they’re being very nice to me.”

“You don’t want to dance then?”

“Very funny. Let’s go.”

And so we do, and we have such a good time. The music is great and my partner is everything I’ve ever wanted. I love that Scott gets perturbed the few times guys ask if they can cut in. After he gets rid of the third guy, he mutters something that sounds like, “Am I invisible, or what?”

After another couple songs, we both need a break. “Let’s go get some water,” he says, a bit out of breath. As we head for the bar, he lifts his hand in greeting. “There’s Jorgie.”

I know immediately who he means. There’s only one guy who’s staring directly at us. Strangely, he’s got his arms folded over his chest, not giving the impression that he’s the slightest bit happy to see us, even from this distance. The closer we get, the colder he becomes, his eyes rebounding back and forth between Scott and me. He seems vaguely familiar, but it’s not until we’re standing in front of him that it hits me that I know Jorgie . . . and that he knows me.

My heart falls all the way to the sticky floor.

“?Qué onda, Jorgie?” Scott greets, not yet feeling the tension. I’m at a total loss of what to do, of how to diffuse the situation . . . which makes sense because I don’t even know what the situation is. But whatever Jorgie’s problem with me is, it’s not good.

They do the same weird handshake thing Scott did with Mike, but Jorgie’s not smiling. “Necesitamos hablar,” he says with all seriousness to Scott. We need to talk.

Scott makes a face. “Jorgie, I’m not in the mood for –”

“Ahora, Scotty. Nada más tú y yo.” Now. Alone.

My heart, that’s still hovering near the floor, is starting to get roughed up by our shuffling feet. My buoyant mood