Page 14 of Sharing Shadow Secrets (High Five Novella #6)

“ I like the feel of this place,” Taylor says, and I’ve really enjoyed all of our conversation so far. We’re going straight for the deep stuff and that’s so much better than small talk.

“Let’s sit on the patio?” I ask, and she nods. Stepping up to the hostess stand on the sidewalk, I ask, “Do you have any tables for two outside?”

“Yeah.” The girl grabs a handful of menus and guides us past couple after couple, each sitting at wrought iron black tables, until we reach an open one.

Looks like a nice date spot.

As we take our seats across from one another, she sets a wine list between us.

“Just water for us,” Taylor says, picking it up and handing it back to her. I softly smile, appreciating that.

“Tell me about yourself,” I say after the hostess walks off. “You’re starting a business. You’re really good at social media. What else should I know about you?”

“I grew up in the north suburbs. So north, some might argue they are not suburbs, just rural America. I’ve lived downtown since college and generally really love Chicago.”

“What did you study?”

“You will never guess,” she says teasingly.

“Marketing?”

Taylor shakes her head, and she is gorgeous. I’ve always been drawn to light eyes and dark hair. Maybe I’m a narcissist since I have the same look, but I love it. My eyes flick down to her cleavage.

“Anthropology,” she says, and I refocus, but she looks incredible.

“Yeah?” I ask, surprised that people still major in that.

“Homo sapiens sapiens fascinate me.”

Taking her in, Taylor has me hooked, and every new detail only draws me in more.

“I thought it was just homo sapiens?” I ask, since I don’t recall hearing the word repeated before.

“Homo sapiens sapiens are modern day, while sapiens are both now and archaic people.”

“Learn something new every day.”

She’s smart, interesting, and too beautiful.

She smiles and takes a sip of her water. “Psychology seemed … I don’t know. Bad vibes, so Anthro it was.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s the easiest way to explain it. Not to say I’m less interested in the individual, but I’m fascinated by culture and how it collectively permeates everything.”

A server approaches, and I catch him checking Taylor out. Either she doesn’t notice or she’s unphased by it. “I hear water is good. What can I get you for dinner?”

I gesture to Taylor, and she grimaces. “I haven’t looked at the menu.”

“Do you like olives and feta?” I ask, and she nods.

“We’ll start with your marinated olives, and then we’ll need a few more minutes.”

The server writes that down and then steps away.

“So, how did you end up doing social media?” I ask, reaching for her hand and rubbing my thumb back and forth on her knuckles.

“By accident,” she says, her eyes flicking down to our hands before finding mine again. “I started this meme account. It was similar to Trust Fund Terry , just making fun of rich kids, and it got a million followers, which seven years ago was a lot more impressive than it is today.”

“That’s still impressive,” I say, while wondering if she falls into the camp of “eat the rich.”

“Well, seven years ago, I was able to sell the account to a brand, and now they use it to hawk shirts.”

“So, you’ve always been a businesswoman?” I ask, impressed and curious.

“I’ve always been chronically online. When I sold that account, the social media agency I just quit started courting me.

So after college, they hired me as a manager and I got promoted to director, which sounds way cooler than it was.

The salaries did not match the title. One of the many reasons I needed to go. ”

“Was there anything you liked about the agency?”

“The clients, when I got to work on accounts I wanted to work on … Like they didn’t want to take on High Five because they thought it was lame. But I kind of put my foot down. Like, Nicholas is so nice, and he was paying the rate so why not take him on?”

“So bossy,” I flirt but then think about her earlier comment: making fun of rich kids . I’m hoping this isn’t going to make things weird between us. “Tell me what you have against rich kids?”

She flashes an awkward smile. “Collectively, there is a lot of meat on the bone to make fun of your kind.”

“Like?”

“The disconnect with the plebeians.”

“None of us choose the life we’re born into.”

I mean, I would trade my trust fund for a family, parents. But that’s not how life works.

“True. I don’t know. I grew up in an environment where everyone was more or less in the same income level, and then I went to college and it was like holy shit, there are kids that drive Ferraris to class.

It was just such a juxtaposition, and then partying with them …

endless fodder I turned into memes, which ended up paying off my student loans. ”

“Are you dating me for more fodder?” I joke, hoping that’s not the case. Most people have little empathy for my one-percent problems, which is why I save them for therapy or my friends who can relate.

“No. I’m done talking shit online, and I get more enjoyment out of helping businesses grow by finding their voice.”

“Sounds like good vibes.” I wink and decide to share. “I never drove a Ferrari to class, but I did plenty of douchey things when I was at Notre Dame.”

Like jetting off after class on Friday to party in Ibiza for the weekend and roll into Monday’s class still messed up.

“Notre Dame. Enough said,” she says condescendingly.

I let go of her hand, needing to check in. “I have the biggest crush, but I’m having a hard time gauging if you’re into me.”

“Sorry,” she barely makes out, running her hands through her hair and looking down. Her eyes flick back up and are warm. “I am into you.”

I smile, reaching for her hand again. “Will you be nicer to me?”

“Yes,” she whispers while interlacing her fingers with mine. “I am sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean. But I get how I was. I don’t know why I’m like that.”

“Don’t act so innocent, DVP,” I tease, wanting to lighten the mood.

She giggles, holding my hand tighter.

“For fodder,” I say, thinking back to college. “It was interesting to take class in a building named after Kent Dubois.”

“That’s good fodder. So, what did you study?”

“Finance. I didn’t really have a say in where I went to school and what I studied.”

“What do you mean?”

“The thing about Kent Dubois is that he is a very intense person who doesn’t understand the word no. Everything is a negotiation to him.” I shake my head, pausing. “When he used to threaten to cut me off, I would do whatever he was asking, but now … I wish I had cut ties with him a long time ago.”

Taylor’s face … I bet she’s wondering how to respond to these touchy topics. I should talk about something lighter.

“So, where did you go to school?”

“Northwestern.”

“Northwestern?” I cock my brow. “You have no ground to stand on. There are so many assholes there.”

She fights back a smile, then quips, “We’ve already agreed that I’m an asshole.”

I squeeze her hand, loving this rhythm between us. It’s not for everyone, but I like it and I’m not going to think about how she has something else in common with my ex, who also went to Northwestern.