First Dance (Strip in the City, Book 3)

08 • Can't Blame it on the Whiskey

Kennedy

The last event on my bachelorette party itinerary is a country concert at one of those little hole-in-the-wall joints where a bunch of famous people got started. I've been able to hold it together slightly better since brunch, but all the pretending catches up to me when I sit down at the dingy bar table and start listening to this beautiful girl singing her heart out about being cheated on.

Sometimes country music is a sucker punch straight to the gut.

Meanwhile, Lucas is dancing away with Clara, but not in the grind-up-on-you way he did with me. They're slow dancing.

Slow dancing.

First hand holding, and now this?

Our eyes meet in the dark bar, and I swear I'm tearin' up all over again while everyone around me hollers and claps.

Needing to tune out all these depressing lyrics and everything else going on inside my head that I can't get to shut up, I tell Tan I need to use the restroom and make a beeline for the exit.

Why can't I get my feelings to turn off like I usually can? It's like I've lost the ability to crawl back inside myself and go numb to it all, and I don't understand why. It's not like this is the first time I've had my heart broken.

I escape the loud bar, and once I'm out in the warm late spring air, I put my hands on my knees and try to take a few deep breaths.

I'm either about to have a panic attack, or my heart's about to break in two right here on the sidewalk, and I'm not sure which one's gonna kill me first. The sadness and grief is a physical pain I can't shake.

"Kennedy!"

I close my eyes and pray because, Lord, help me. I'd know that voice anywhere. It's Lucas. He's followed me outside, and I don't know what to say to him right now.

When I woke up this morning, I actually believed he might be the one for me. And now, I'm watching my dance with my cousin.

As much as I want to ignore how I'm feeling and make it go away, something tells me that the kiss we had last night is to blame. My gut feels like it's turned into a tug of war rope, and I'm being pulled in two directions.

Maybe I'm angry at Lucas for kissing me and then forgetting about it or being so dang into my cousin, which I know is irrational because I told him I didn't remember it either. But maybe I'm not feeling very rational right now.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "Don't worry about me. Go back inside and dance with Clara."

"Okay, so that's Clara," he says with relief. His hand smacks against his forehead. "I couldn't remember if she was Clara or Sarah all day, and it was too late to ask and not look like a dick."

I glare at him, pouring every ounce of frustration into that one look.

"You know her name. It's saved in your phone," I deadpan.

I don't know why I just said that. I think it's because I want him to admit he's lying, just like Flynn did.

"Is it?" he asks, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He examines the lock screen and scrolls through the endless notifications he always seems to have.

He shrugs, like one cursory scroll is all he needs, then shoves it back into his pocket, turning his blue eyes back on me. A serious look washing over his face.

"I truthfully haven't even looked at this thing all day. I've been too worried to take my eyes off you for one second."

I don't want to believe that's true, so I let out a sarcastic laugh and roll my eyes. "That ain't true. You're not worried about me."