Page 126 of Score
I glance at my watch. “I think we have about an hour before we can say that officially.”
“Right.” Verity toys with one of the noisemakers on our table.
“I was just saying I can’t wait to get back on set.” Jill bounces her gaze between the two of us. “Verity, you were telling Seth about Dessi and Cal’s time in Europe.”
“Oh yeah!” Verity glances up, her eyes lit with sudden interest and her shoulders visibly relaxing. “The next part we’re shooting is when they leave the States to perform with Cal’s band all over Europe. They go before the war breaks out, but they stay for years. Even performing for the troops many times once the war starts. Especially in London.”
Seth is just as much a history buff as Verity, and they geek out for the next few minutes. For every fact Verity drops, Seth has three to five follow-up questions. My eyes would typically be glazing over by now, but I love watching Verity in her element. Her face lights up when she discusses things she’s passionate about. And her natural reserve evaporates.
She and I have barely exchanged a word since she sat down, but there is an awareness, ever present and electric, that thrums in the space between us. I’m attuned to her husky laughter and the citrus scent of her perfume.
“Okay,” Jill says, slamming her glass on the table and standing. “Enough nerd people talk. It’s a party, bitches!”
“I knew it.” Seth picks up Jill’s empty glass and sniffs. “Vodka. Sets her off every time.”
“Dance with me.” Jill grabs Seth’s arm and drags him to his feet. “They’re playing our song.”
“‘Vision of Love’ is not our song,” Seth says wryly, but doesn’t resist Jill’s coaxing.
“We’ll be back,” Jill says over her shoulder, widening her eyes and looking meaningfully at Verity.
Wow. Subtle.
Verity and I have never danced with each other. Not for real.
“I loved this album,” Verity says, offering me a shy smile, which pushes me over the edge because I know what’s beneath that shyness, and most never will.
She’s swaying slightly in her seat. It would be perfectly natural for me to ask if she wants to—
“Verity, here you are,” JCPenney model says, approaching with a hopeful smile. “I was looking for you. Wanna dance?”
Light-skinned, green-eyed motherfucker. I knew it.
“Oh, Phillip,” Verity says, looking over to me and then back to him. “Hey.”
“Sorry I got pulled away.” He finally notices me, and the hope in his eyes flickers into uncertainty. “Oh, but if you two—”
“No,” Verity and I say in unison.
Even though I said it, too, her quick denial kind of pisses me off.
“No,” Verity says again, more evenly. “Monk and I are just…”
She holds my gaze for a few charged seconds and then looks back up at Phillip with a smile.
“We’re just old friends.” She stands, and the gold dress spills over her curves like stardust. “I’d love to dance.”
Phillip looks like he just won the lottery and takes Verity’s hand to lead her away.
“Um, nice to meet you,” he mumbles, paying me a cursory glance as they go.
“I’ll be back,” Verity says, looking over her shoulder and searching my face. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”
“Nah.” I take a long draw of my old-fashioned. “It’s almost midnight.”
She nods and follows Phillip onto the floor.
I refuse to watch her dance with this guy. I hate that it bothers me. I hate that after all these years, even with the rules laid out clearly, and her playing by them, that it’s a knife in my gut when I see anyone else touch her.
