she was auditioning for a Legally Blonde sequel.
But there was something about the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes that made the interest seem hollow.
Thankfully a small group walked in, and Jasper had to go take care of them.
I glared at Taylor.
“What?” she said with too much innocence infused in her voice.
“You’re supposed to only have eyes for me right now.”
“Sorry, doll, but you’re not my type.”
I clutched my chest with a hand. “You wound me.”
“Whatever. I’m only in it for the flirting anyway. I have zero interest in dating right now.”
“Why?”
She waved me off. “We’re not here to talk about me. Spill your sordid tale.”
So I did. I told her everything from how I’d stupidly been working on ideas for the Yard at work to Jake stealing them like a creep and then to Jeff acting like some kind of marketing mob boss threatening to figuratively kneecap Drew’s dream.
When I was finished, Taylor was slack-jawed but silent.
“So,” I prodded, “what do I do?”
“You ladies need anything over here?” Jasper asked.
Taylor smiled up at him. “We’re going to need another round. And shots. Redheaded Sluts. Keep them coming.”
D R E W
Did you know I could float?
I reread Sophia’s text, trying to make sense of it. I was about to ask her to clarify when another one came through.
I also really like tree houses.
We should build one!
Where are you?
Inside grass.
Done with the cryptic texts, I called her.
“Drew,” she answered, making my name more syllables than I thought possible. “The lights are like Tinkerbell.”
“What lights? Where are you?”
“The lights above my head. And I, my fine sir, am in a tree house.”
“Let me talk to him,” I heard someone I thought was Taylor say.
“No, you talk to Casper. Drew’s mine.”
“His name is Jasper, you drunk idiot,” Taylor said. I heard her more clearly that time, so she was either yelling or was closer to the phone.
“You too drunk,” Sophia argued. “Wait. Drunk too you. Oh God. Drew! I think I forgot how to English.”
“Sophia, are you at a bar?”
“Ooh, I like this game. Yes.”
“Can I talk to the bartender?” I asked.
She hesitated. “I don’t think you’re playing right.”
“Put the bartender on. Please.”
“Sigh.” She actually said the word instead of simply making the sound.
I heard some rustling before a guy said, “Hello?”
“Hi, can you tell me what bar you’re at?”
“That depends. Who are you?”
I could respect that the guy didn’t want to easily give up the location of two drunk dingbats, but my patience was wearing thin. Having Sophia obviously wasted somewhere in the city was making my chest tighten.
I was about to answer when I heard Sophia yell, “That’s my boyfriend, Drew. He’s so cute. You wanna see a picture?” There was silence for a few seconds before she said, “Oh, you have my phone.”
“Okay, man,” the bartender said. “We’re at The Treehouse Bar and Grill over on Spruce Street.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
“See you then,” he said before handing the phone back to Sophia.
“Are you coming to have a martini?” she asked.
“No. I’m coming to get you and bring you home. So stay where you are, okay?”
She exhaled deeply. “You’re so nice. I’m sorry I ruined your life.”
Ruined my life?
“Baby, you’ve only ever made my life better. Now wait for me to get there.”
“I’ll always wait for you,” she said, sounding more lucid than she had been moments ago. “Do you think they have a tire swing here?”
Okay, so maybe not so lucid.
“I’ll help you look when I get there.”
“’Kay.”
“Okay. I love you and I’ll be right there.”
“’Kay.”
I hurried back toward Aamee’s room. “Maybe we should stay on the phone till I get there.”
“’Kay.”
Then the line went dead.
I looked down at my phone but, in the interest of time, decided not to call back. I knocked on Aamee’s door.
She pulled it open, looking at me expectantly.
“Can I borrow your car?”
Chapter Eighteen
S O P H I A
I must’ve died. That was the only explanation for how I felt. Though, if I were dead, wouldn’t I feel fine? Unless I was in hell, which was a distinct possibility.
I tried opening my eyes, but they felt as if they’d been glued shut. I tried again and made progress until sunlight burned my retinas, and I shrieked, slamming my eyelids closed. The bed dipped, and a large hand rubbed my back.
“I brought you some water and Tylenol,” Drew said.
“I think I’m a vampire,” I muttered.
“So maybe still a little drunk, then,” he said.
I groaned. “I wish. Where’s Taylor?”
“Still asleep.”
I rolled over and chanced