Page 34 of Play the Part (Marsford Bay #2)

HUXLEY

The second location is a converted Catholic church.

The pews are missing, and the interior is decorated with hundreds of artificial candles.

There are a few bartenders stationed near the altar, dressed just as old-timey as the chauffeurs.

Even actors have been hired for various roles, like an indentured mermaid in a bathtub full of treasure placed in the middle of the church floor.

I feel just like the mermaid—a fish out of water.

There must be hundreds of us inside the church. And it seems like everyone here is extensively documenting the event with their phones, except for me. I’ve never seen such outlandish fashion choices in one room. It’s as if they’re all trying to outdress one another.

Then there’s Connie.

God , then there’s Connie.

I was stunned when I first saw her outfit back at the hotel.

Her white dress appears wet at first glance, the fabric hugging her curves as if she just climbed out of the sea alongside the mermaid.

Even her hair and makeup appear wet, and it’s hard not to feel like a chump beside her with my ripped jeans and leather jacket I stole from Ozzy.

But I don’t let it ruin my night. Not when all eyes are on Connie, but her eyes are on me and only me .

We’ve been here for over an hour, and Connie keeps telling me she doesn’t know anyone here, but people continue to come up to her to chat and take selfies.

She must be way more famous than I thought.

It’s a weird concept to wrap my head around when I’ve always only ever known her as just James’ best friend from LA.

“Drink?” Connie asks, rattling the half-melted ice in her empty rocks glass.

I nod. “Sure.”

Not wanting to ruin her lip gloss, I press a quick kiss on her forehead before I weave us through the crowd.

While we wait for our drinks, she pulls out her phone from the small pearl purse hanging from her wrist. It’s not the first picture she’s taken of us tonight, but my stomach still flips as if it is.

I feel silly reacting to something so small, but for once, I ignore my negative thoughts and just enjoy the moment.

“We look really hot together,” Connie says matter-of-factly, as she zooms in on our faces, studying the picture.

As more time passes between us, the more things feel solid. Like we’re slowly becoming an official couple. Although I know we’re not there yet, it sure as hell feels like we are when she says shit like that. I chuckle under my breath, resting an elbow on the bar.

“It’s your sex appeal, it’s rubbing off on me.”

Connie giggles. “Oh, is it now?” she says.

Her hands smooth up my torso and end up resting on my shoulders. I take the opportunity to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against me. We share a loaded look, our faces close together. It only lasts a few seconds, but it makes the crowd around us melt away.

I tug her even closer.

“You’re so pretty, it hurts,” I whisper.

Her smile is gradual, almost like she’s slowly processing what I’ve just said. But the way she smiles back … It’s warm and thoughtful, as if she’s heard my silent confession between the words I’ve spoken out loud.

The moment fades when the bartender returns with our cocktails.

I let go of Connie and grab our drinks, stuffing a twenty in the tip jar since it’s open bar.

I still have my back turned when I hear a commotion behind me.

It sounds like it’s happening close to the entrance, and I can practically feel the air shift as excited shouts and murmurs ripple through the crowd.

Curious, I turn to see what’s happening.

Shock ripples through me like a threat when I spot Connie’s ex walking into the party.

He’s strutting like a peacock, his black hair perfectly coiffed and slicked back. There’s a smug look on his face as if he knows all the attention is on him. The surprise I initially feel seeing him wears off, and I scoff, not wanting to waste any more of my time on that loser.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I say as I turn my attention to Connie.

It’s when I see the look on her face that my stomach truly sinks.

She doesn’t appear to have heard me; her eyes are still tracking her ex across the room.

I was expecting some kind of disgust or anger, but her expression is far more complex than simple repulsion.

It’s hard to pinpoint what she might be feeling, but all I know is that it’s not clear-cut, and it’s confusing as all hell to witness.

There’s history there that I’m not privy to, and I suddenly feel like the stranger in this stupid fucking equation.

“I need a smoke,” I mutter, abandoning our drinks at the bar.

Connie’s attention finally snaps back to me, and her eyes widen as if experiencing a whirlwind of emotions all at once.

“Wait,” she says, her hand reaching out for me, but she drops it before ever making contact. “I’m not — I just —”

She gives up trying to make sense and just stares at me, dewy lips slightly parted.

“It’s okay,” I say calmly, even though there’s nothing okay about how I’m feeling. “I just need some air.”

I leave her standing near the bar and head for the exit, suddenly feeling sick, dread crawling up my throat like bile. I don’t know what’s about to happen next, but years of shitty luck prepares me for the worst.

Because nothing good ever lasts.

I watch Connie’s scrawled handwriting fade and burn with the cigarette until it’s nothing but ashes. I’m not exactly grateful right now, even if it’s something as simple as my vinyl records. I’m stewing, picking my thumb raw with nerves, knowing that I eventually need to go back inside.

I’d rather just walk away now. Pretend these past couple of weeks never happened and fade back into the void.

Instead, I flick my cigarette butt into the street and jog up the church stairs.

Inside, I’m met with the worst-case scenario.

Her ex has replaced me at the bar beside Connie. Both their heads are down as if deep in discussion. Everyone is giving them a wide berth, and something about it pisses me the fuck off. I feel like a fool stepping up to them like I’m the one interrupting and not the other way around.

“Huxley!” Connie squeaks, her expression just as alarmed as before, her eyes bouncing from me to him.

She seems incapable of properly handling whatever is happening right now.

So I make it easier for her.

“I’m going to head out.”

“Wait, no,” she hurries to say, taking a step forward.

I don’t miss her ex’s hand landing on her arm as if he has every right to touch her. My fist curls instinctively at the sight.

His pompous gaze flicks to me, but he barely gives me the time of day. He assesses me quickly, then simply says, “Let him go, babe.”

His term of endearment hangs between the three of us like a ghost risen back from the dead. If I weren’t just fresh off of probation, I’d be punching this idiot square in the jaw.

Like I give a flying fuck who this guy is or how much he’s worth.

My laugh is chilling when I look over to Connie.

“Yeah, babe ,” I repeat slowly. “Just let me go.”

I don’t leave Connie the chance to reply before I head straight back for the exit. But this time, I hear Connie’s protest rise up from the crowd.

“Huxley, stop!” She’s following me out.

I’m halfway down the church steps when I finally turn around.

I’m struck by the vision of Connie in her white dress, the church looming behind her with the moon hanging low in the starry night sky.

But at that very moment, I hate everything about how breathtaking she looks. A cruel taunt of the unattainable dream of being with her.

“Go back inside, Connie,” I spit. “It’s where you belong.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she says, a small plea in her voice. “Ignore him?”

I stare back at her, slightly dumbfounded.

“After what he did to you? Yeah, actually, that’d be a great start.”

She wraps her arms around her body against the cold, and I’m reminded of our spat outside the bar on her birthday. The memory stings. Although it didn’t feel like it back then, everything was a lot less tangled between us.

“It’s not that simple, okay?” Her voice rises as if she’s getting riled up. “It’s complicated — we were together for a year. I loved him. You just wouldn’t understand.”

Her frustrated expression falls as she realizes what she just said. I don’t even let her words sink far enough to do any real damage. I lock myself out and feel nothing.

“I didn’t mean —”

“You’re right,” I say, my voice cold and emotionless. “I wouldn’t understand.”

This time, she doesn’t protest when I turn around and leave.