Page 11 of Choosing Her

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Before that night, I never thought I would see an angel in person—especially not one dressed in a miniskirt, sitting on top of a washing machine. But there she was, with her dark brown hair falling in loose curls around her face and a manicured hand around the can of coke I’d brought her.

I silently thanked my cousin who I’d come here with for disappearing and leaving me to stumble upon this beauty.

“Where are you from?” I asked her.

She regarded me for a long moment before saying, “Not here.”

I must have asked her a thousand questions by now and I’d gotten only one true answer in the form of her name. Everything time I asked her something new, she would give me vague answers like wouldn’t you like to know?

I did want to know. I wanted to find out every piece of information I could from her, wanted to memorize all of it. I was only in Florida for three more days before I went back home to Canada, and I wanted to spend every moment until then talking to her.

“Are you here with somebody?” I asked. That probably should have been my first question—the one I asked before I sat down on the dryer and handed her a drink—but it didn’t even occur to me to ask until now.

The little smirk that graced her face made me worry that she was actually here with someone and that he would coming running in here at any moment to kill me.

But if that was the case, I would go down swinging.

“My sister,” she said. I let out a breath of relief.

Because even if I was willing to right for this, my night would go much better if I didn’t.

Not to mention, I didn’t want to go back to my cousins’ house covered in bruises and have to explain to my mom and aunt how I’d ended up like that.

“I was looking for her when I came up here.”

I looked around the cramped space we were sitting in. The long hallway of closed doors leading to bedrooms was probably the better place to go looking for someone, if she was really looking to find her. Why would she end up in here instead?

“You thought she’d be hiding in a stranger’s laundry room?”

“Well I know it’s her dream to work as a maid in a mansion and fall in love with the billionaire living there,” she said drily. “Maybe she was just looking for practice.”

“Or looking for one of our hosts,” I said.

Saylor laughed softly. “I wouldn’t put it past her to try to seduce one of them. But I don’t think she’s looking to fall in love yet.”

“No?”

She shook her head, trailing her thumb along the rim of her can.

“Actually, I don’t know that she’ll ever fall in love.

She’s not a relationship person. She likes to date for a couple weeks then gets bored and drops them.

” She shrugged. “Seems like a sad way to go through life, if you ask me, but if it makes her happy…”

“So you didn’t find her up here,” I said, gesturing around the small room. “So, what did you do then?”

“I figured the party could go on without me,” she said, then took a long sip of her drink.

I tilted my head towards the door, listening to the sound of everyone yelling, the music booming so loudly through the whole place that it was giving me a headache. Then I looked back at her and said, “I don't know how.”

I could tell that she didn’t want to be impressed by me, but I could also see the way her lips twitched like she was smiling from my words. I felt oddly triumphant seeing that, like I’d solved some difficult puzzle.

“What’s your sister’s name?” I asked.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “We're not doing that.”

It was the first time she’d outright turned down one of my questions. She’d evaded them all, but she hadn’t been mad at any of the ones I’d asked before. I wasn’t sure what changed from all of those to this one.

“Not doing what?”

She pulled her legs up, her high heel digging into my leg as it went by. I got the distinct sense that I’d done something wrong, but I had no idea what it was or how to fix it. All I knew was that I didn’t want her to pull away. I wasn’t ready for this to end yet.

“We’re not making small talk. Either make real conversation or get out.”

It was such a blunt order that I almost laughed out loud just from the shock. She just continued staring at me with a serious look, then her gaze darted toward the door like she was silently you can see yourself out .

“You’re a very strange girl, Saylor,” I said. But I didn’t get up. I didn’t leave. If she wanted to stop talking to me, she was going to have to leave, because I wasn’t going to be the first one to make the move.

“I’ve been to a lot of parties like this.

Well…” She paused and thought about, absent-mindedly scooping all her hair over one shoulder.

“I guess not quite like this. More high-class parties—all the rich folks in their nicest dresses and diamond jewelry, and asking you which eligible bachelor you’re hoping to marry.

The answer, of course, has to be one of the boys already in university with plans to become a lawyer or a doctor or an investment banker.

” She sighed and rest her head against the wall behind her.

“I know how to smile and nod and say what people want to hear, but I don’t like it and I don’t want to do it here. Especially not with you.”

I wasn’t quite sure what that last sentence meant. Not with me . Was that her saying that she enjoyed talking to me? Or just that I wasn’t worth making that small talk and being fake with? I decided not to comment on it, focusing on what she said about parties.

“You from a country club family?” I asked.

I knew a thing of what she was talking about.

Both my parents had grown up in that world too and while my mom wasn’t largely in it anymore—mostly because she knew she was the topic of so much gossip, after having three children out of wedlock—but my dad and Stacey were still in it.

The only reason my parents had met in college was because of those very same country club parties, sneaking off to be together.

It was only when life slapped them in the face by my mom getting pregnant with me that they realized they weren’t compatible in anything they wanted.

My mom liked the artist’s life, living carefree, while my dad was a lawyer, who liked routine and consistency.

I wondered, sometimes, if the only thing they’d had in common back in the day was wanting to get as far away from the parties as possible.

“How’d you know?” Saylor asked. She was assessing me now, I could tell. Looking me up and down, trying to place the hockey player sitting in front of her with the stuffy people she knew at the club.

“Takes one to know one,” I said, just confirming her suspicions. “You should see me in a suit.”

Her lips quirked. “I guess I’ll have to see that sometime.”

She was testing me, wanting to see how I would react to the idea of seeing her again. Even though I knew there was next to no chance of it happening, I refused to fail the test. I held her gaze as I said, “I guess you will.”