Page 2 of Caging Liberty
When I meet her eyes, her glare has deepened.
I force a frown. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you. I only ask because your dress is a little crooked. You look uncomfortable.”
She blinks and looks down. “Oh.” She straightens her dress—which was perfectly fine, by the way—and laughs before running her hands over her face. When she drops them at her sides, her shoulders sag.
“This isn’t exactly my crowd.”
“No?”
She shakes her head.
I guessed as much.
So … not a wife. She looks too young to be a wife anyway. Early twenties probably. I take a peek at her ring finger just to be sure.
She gestures at the railing where my arm rests. “Could I bum one of those?”
“What?”
“The cigarette,” she says, gesturing again. “Could I have one?”
I stand up straight and glance at the smoke. It feels wrong to get rid of after all this time, like saying goodbye to a toxic friend, but I suppose it’s more a prisoner than anything. Reluctantly, I hand it over, setting my small piece of temptation free. “Sure.”
“Thanks.” She takes it and brings it to her mouth, leaning forward as I strike the lighter and hover the flame over the tip of the cigarette. She sucks in, and I stare at the orange glow, my senses firing. I set the lighter on the railing and take a step back, watching as the woman takes a drag then breathes out the smoke. I close my eyes for a second, and although it’s been a year, I can still taste the nicotine.
“Fuck, I needed that,” she says, letting her head fall back and exhaling. She laughs and straightens her neck, meeting my eyes. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“Little out of your league?”
She shrugs and takes another pull before blowing the smoke out through her nostrils. My mouth waters.
“I don’t know if I’d put it like that.”
“How would you put it?”
She glances inside then meets my gaze. “Rich people are judgmental as fuck.”
My lips lift into an amused grin, and I withhold the chuckle creeping up my throat. “You don’t say?”
“Seriously, what is even the point of this thing?” She gestures inside. “I mean, how necessary is it to spend all this money throwing a party? Couldn’t they have just donated the money they would’ve spent on their ice sculpture to ALS directly? Do theyneedthe tablecloths that cost more than my tuition?”
If I had a dollar for every time I heard that argument, I could have paid for the party myself.
“Tuition?” I ask, my head tilting.
She closes her mouth, stopping herself from saying more, and nods. “Yeah, I’m in law school.”
That’s interesting.
Daughter, maybe?
No, that doesn’t make sense. She obviously doesn’t come from money.
She brings the cigarette to her mouth, then lowers it as her gaze drops to my hand. “I didn’t take your last one, did I?”
I shrug. “It’s fine.”
She holds it out to me. “Shit, sorry. Here, we’ll share it.”