The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,71
a vibe. Lexa agrees. Joaquin thinks we’re crazy. Probably because he’s a little in love with her.”
Ah. “With Nora or Alima?”
“Alima. You know he said she looks like you. Right after saying she’s hot. Like that wasn’t a completely creepy thing to say.”
“Well, thanks for not saying it’s an insult to Alima.”
“Soph, we’re sucking down your margaritas,” Joe called.
“Would you rather drink or eat, Joe?” I called back, smiling.
“Looks like Logan and Charlie’re doing all the cookin’.”
“I’m supervising,” I said. “I’ll make a pitcher of margaritas in a sec.”
They lifted their glasses to me.
“Are you okay to do that?” Logan asked.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “So.” I cleared my throat and hoped my voice would sound merely curious. “Would you care if Nora was gay?” I whispered the final word.
Logan scrunched up her face. “Why would I care?”
I relaxed and was about to say something when Logan said, “I mean, it’s gross, but to each their own, right?”
“Right.”
seventeen
nora
It was plain as day that Sophie needed a drink. Or wanted one, I should say.
She’d been talking to Logan by the stove, and her face fell. She looked toward the bar, and the bottle of tequila she’d just been using to make everyone margaritas, and licked her lips. She turned away just as quickly and busied herself with getting dinner together. I started to leave the group I was in and help her, give her moral support, and damn it I just wanted to be close to her, when Jamie grabbed me by the arm to stop me.
“Sophie’s got it under control. She hates it when we try to help.”
“Very Type A,” Tiffany said. “She never lets us bring anything except beer.”
“Sounds like a good hostess to me,” Alima said.
“She is. She wants her guests to enjoy themselves,” Kim said. “I’d offered to help, and she sent me away.”
“Controlling,” Jamie singsonged. She drank her margarita and twisted around to glance at the group huddled around the grill, her eyes lingering possessively on Charlie and Avery.
“She’s a better cook than you,” Kim said.
Jamie glared at Kim.
“Or any of us,” Kim quickly amended.
I caught Alima’s eye. She tried to hide her smile behind drinking her margarita.
“Tell us exactly what you do,” Tiffany said to Alima.
She did, and the three women’s eyes glazed over after one sentence of the explanation. Alima was an expert at making what we did sound deadly dull when it was anything but.
“Why in the world did you choose Arabic, Nora?” Jamie sneered.
“I didn’t. The government chose it for me. And Spanish, French, and Farsi.”
“Say something,” Kim said.
“No,” I said.
“These good Christians are too blind to see you and Sophie want to rip each other’s clothes off,” Alima said.
“What did she say?” Tiffany asked.
“What language is that?” Kim asked.
“Farsi. She said dinner smells good,” I said.
“What happened in the back?” Alima said.
“Nothing.”
“Liar. Maybe Sophie would want to come home with us. We’ve never had a third. Might be fun. Should we ask?”
“No.”
“You’re blushing. I think you like the idea.”
“I’m not, and I don’t.”
Alima grinned, satisfied with getting a rise out of me. “I’m kidding; you’re all mine tonight.”
“What did she say then?” Tiffany asked.
“It’s rude to carry on conversations in another language,” Jamie said.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. We’re talking about how nice you all are.”
“She could say that in English,” Tiffany said.
“I like Sophie, by the way. More than I want to.”
“Stop it, Alima. You’re being rude,” I said.
“You sound like a terrorist.”
“Jamie!” Tiffany said.
“Well, she does.”
I stepped close to Jamie. “Too far.” I leaned forward and Jamie flinched. I caught her eyes and saw fear there. “Apologize.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me with your bare hands?”
I was impressed with her bravado. “You don’t think I can, do you?”
“Okay,” Kim singsonged, trying to pull me away. “Let’s you and me make that pitcher of margaritas for Sophie.”
I shrugged her off easily. “Not until Jamie apologizes to our visitor.”
Jamie looked around the group, expecting someone to stand up for her, but no one did. “Fine, I apologize.”
“Accepted,” Alima said. “Though you’re right, bitch; I am a terrorist.”
I laughed. Alima leaned in and whispered, “That was incredibly hot, by the way.”
I winked at her as Kim threaded her arm through mine and pulled me toward the bar. “When did you become such a badass?”
“I’ve always been a badass, Kim.”
“Can you really kill someone with your bare hands?”
When I didn’t answer, she said, “Remind me never, ever, to get on your wrong side. Look,” she looked over her shoulder. No one was with hearing distance. She