It was barely a word.
I scowled, ready to snap back, when he spoke again.
“Why are you still here, Eli?”
“Did you say Eli?” the bored voice said, intrigued. Pres leaned over the bar, surprised to see us on the floor. “Oh, wow. Hey, Eliza. How are you? Do you work here? The service is terrible. Could I get a glass of pinot?”
“No, she can’t,” Derek snapped, his eyes never leaving my narrowed ones. “Because she isn’t supposed to be here anymore. I thought you’d bail the second you sat next to Kennedy Crawford.”
I gasped.
“You’re the reason I’m seated next to her? You know how I feel about her!”
He smirked, pretending to think about it. “Huh, oh yeah, I guess I do. My bad.”
And then he plucked the whiskey off the bar, laughed, and walked away.
Pres kind of smiled, unfazed by Derek. “So you can’t get me a glass of wine?”
I shook my head.
He sighed, clearly disappointed. “You wouldn’t happen to have any cigarettes on you, would you? Derek tossed mine in some poor attempt to get me to quit.”
I shook my head again, numbly waving goodbye.
“Pres smokes?” Alex asked once he’d disappeared. “Isn’t he an athlete?”
“That’s what you got out of that conversation?” I snapped, taking the tequila from her clutches. “Not that Derek purposely messed with the seating chart so I’d be next to my mortal enemy?”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t give a shit about Derek.”
I shifted on the scratchy ballroom carpet, furious that was how the big reunion had gone. Me, crumpled on the floor just like Kennedy’s discarded napkin, next to a tear-stained woman holding tequila. It felt like a bad country song.
“I don’t,” I grumbled, tipping more tequila in my mouth, shuddering at the memories and spirit.
“He’s the reason you’re jaded.”
“I am not jaded.”
“He’s definitely the reason you’ve never had a real relationship since,” Alex fired back. “Think about Noah.”
I shook my head, my heart twisting with frustration.
“Then why, Eli? Why are you alone?”
“Because I’ve had countless bad dates. Many terrible hookups. What’s the point of getting invested if it’s just gonna end? And do you not remember how every guy in high school thought I was a ‘practice girl’?”
“And whose fault was that?” she pressed.
I exhaled an annoyed breath.
“Derek was like Pecunia’s resident good guy. My brother was like the wind, impossible to pin down. Pres was the popular, rich asshole, the thorny rose bush. Caleb was the poised, chill one, the soil, the one who kept you grounded. Derek was the good one. He was so pure. He was like sunshine. He’s like the standard, you know? Then he dumped me and never felt bad about it. It affected me, and look at him, he’s fine. Nothing has changed for him.”
She nodded enthusiastically.
“And then people like your bartender boy think they can get away with it,” I said slowly, finally understanding what she was getting at. “It’s an epidemic.”
“He’s like Patient Zero.”
“You just gotta destroy him, and we can neutralize the ongoing threat,” I said in my best horror movie voice.
“Oh my god,” Alex said, sitting up straight. “That’s it, Eli. Let’s do that.”
I stared at her.
“You want to … kill Derek?”
She threw her head back and howled with laughter.
“No, I want you to break his heart. Do to him what he did to you. On behalf of all women. An eye for an eye.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “That’s impossible.”
“If we found a way? If you had a chance, you’d do it?”
I sighed, thinking of the party behind us.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to be cruel. Even if I hate the guy, I still love his parents, you know?”
“But imagine a world where you got to flip the script.”
She swooped her hand in front of her, like that sort of reality was close enough to grab.
“Imagine a world where Derek is in tears, and you’re out there dancing and laughing. Imagine feeling vindicated. Imagine you didn’t feel the misery of being left behind, of heartbreak. Imagine a world where every girl who has been wronged by a shitty ex suddenly doesn’t have to feel that way. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
I laughed and stood, brushing off my knees as quickly as I brushed off her alcohol-fueled pipe dream.
“Well, here in reality, I need to make sure the centerpieces are intact since Camille is donating them to the hospital after tonight. And you need to serve people dessert wine. Tonight isn’t about us, it’s about Camille. We owe her our best.”
She groaned. As quickly as her energy had surfaced, it disappeared. Her break was up, which meant so was the fantasy.
We stashed the tequila and surveyed the scene. The room was full of people from my past, but I could only see Derek.
“Damn,” Alex sighed as we took him in.
Four years had changed him.
Unfortunately for me, it had been for the better.
He’d always been fit, joining his soccer-playing brother and Pres on runs and exercise routines in high school, but his 22-year-old frame had filled out in a way his 18-year-old one hadn’t been.
I’d heard Pres played collegiate soccer. Given their bond, I was certain Derek had joined him in workouts to create such an athletic, masculine build. The years had also allowed him to grow his hair out even longer, his shoulder-length dark curls somewhat tamed in his suit.
Everyone in Pecunia liked to say that Derek’s hair had been the only way they could tell the difference between the twins. Caleb had been more clean-cut, his hair wavy and short, never once interested in seeing if it would grow out to wild curls like Derek.
But there had been so many ways to tell them apart.
Derek had the smallest trace of freckles on his nose and cheeks, created by years of playing outside, barely noticeable unless you were close enough.
Caleb had been just half an inch taller, a fact he’d always held over his brother. And if people had waited around, they would’ve been able to easily tell them apart because Derek was always moving, drumming his fingers or tapping his foot, a constant soundtrack playing in his head. Caleb had been steadier, calmer, a still presence compared to his brother.
But, in my opinion, the starkest difference had been that Caleb’s eyes had been brown, the color of oak trees, whereas Derek’s were shades darker — onyx.
The darkness in his glittering, coal-burning gaze was magnetic, intoxicating, and the perfect complement to his smile. Derek Smyth, without a doubt, had the most charming smile, perfect pearly teeth, a bright swoop of a smile, brilliant like the sun, smoothing out the fire in his eyes, rival to none.
And he was smiling it right now, right at a beautiful woman I didn’t know, offering her the whiskey he’d swiped when he’d laughed in my face.
“You still hate my plan?” Alex asked dryly.
I groaned, lightly pushing her as I made my way around the bar. “I don’t care. Get back to work.”