After You

chapter sixteen

I can't find Liv anywhere. I check almost every room of the ground floor, but she's nowhere to be seen. Unless every time I move rooms and she does the same, but she's the type of person who's the life of the party; you can usually hear her from at least a mile away.

The centre of my current universe is the kitchen because that's where all the food is. And champagne. I consume another glass, and it's not long after that one, that I start to finally feel the effects: my vision blurs slightly at the edges, and the world starts to tilt. My legs don't feel so steady when I walk.

There is a possibility that Liv could still be outside, but I'm not going to take the chance of bumping into Kyle again. I mean, I know the backyard is huge, but knowing my luck, I will bump into him again. It's like the universe wants to punish me in lieu of him.

Ugh. I wish he would just piss off. Even just thinking of him now makes me angry. It's not what he says, but how he says it. And it's his tone of superiority, his arrogance, that makes my blood boil.

Having searched every room of the ground floor – but the one that is locked, which I guess isn't suspicious? – I head upstairs. I find a bathroom and commit it to memory, but still no matter where I look, I can't find Liv. One of the bedrooms has a balcony, and I go there in the hope that by having a high vantage point I'll be able to spot her. Instead, my drunken stupor sees me take a seat at a table on the balcony, where I'm sure whoever sleeps in this room uses every day to soak up the sun.

I was right that it provides a great vantage point, but not for where I want to look – I get a great view of the front of the mansion, at the many luxurious cars parked along the expansive driveway. I wanted an overview of the backyard, but obviously I got my compass confused.

Few people come upstairs, but I quite enjoy the subdued noises. I still can hear the music from downstairs, but it's even quieter that I can only make out what song it is if I concentrate hard enough. I can also hear the hubbub of conversations and laughter, but at a distance that is strangely comforting.

I hear footsteps behind me. Definitely not heels, so it must be a man.

"What are you doing up here?" a voice asks, and I turn to face the speaker: Dean.

"Why are you up here?" I counter. "It's your birthday."

Dean takes a seat on the balcony beside me. "I had to get away for a little while," he says. "I can only take so much."

We don't speak for a time. We sit in silence, enjoying each other's company, before Dean says, "It was Lily, right?"

"Lucy."

"You came here with Liv."

"Yeah, I did."

"How come I've never met you before?" he asks. "I've known Dyl for years."

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm not much of a party person," I say, and even as the words leave my mouth, I know it sounds absurd considering where I am right now. "I think this is my first party this year."

"I'm not much of a party person, either," says Dean, although I hardly believe it. "Especially when I have to be the centre of attention."

"You wouldn't know it," I say to him.

"Years and years of faking it, I guess," Dean says as he looks over at me. "You weren't doing such a bad job until you disappeared."

"I can't do small talk," I say.

"What about at work?" he asks. "Work is literally made up of small talk."

"Can't do it there, either," I say. "I suck at it in any capacity."

"Speaking of, where do you work?" Dean asks. It's the first time I notice that he has a glass of champagne, which he takes a sip of. I really want one now. Or maybe something other than that. Like a gin and tonic, maybe? Or maybe just something that isn't so bitter and boring.

"Holt & Castle," I say without thinking.

He looks as though he's about to say something, but he holds his tongue. Then he says, as he leans forward, "How do you like it?"

"It's great," I say. I'm surprised he actually hasn't asked me what my role is. But I'm glad he doesn't, because I don't want to talk about it. Half the time I don't want to talk about work once I've knocked off. "I couldn't have asked for a nicer workplace."

Dean smiles at that. "I've known Ray and Richard for years," he says. "It's always nice to hear that they haven't changed."

I scoff. "They don't have a mean bone in their body. I doubt they even know what the definition of 'mean' is."

Dean laughs. "True, true."

"Liv mentioned that you work in real estate," I say.

He casts me a look. It's a look similar to the one Kyle gave me only yesterday, when I asked his name and about his job. Does Dean expect me to know who he is and what he does? Also do these guys seriously think that highly of themselves?

He doesn't answer for his phone goes off. A text message, which he pulls out of his pocket to read. He abruptly stands and types back a message, the sound of his typing audible even above the music and noise from downstairs.

"I've got to go," he says. "It was nice talking to you, Lucy."

I smile. Though the conversation was brief, it was nice. I hardly even had to say anything about me. Touching the surface was fine, and I didn't have to divulge anything that I feared I might've had to.

Dean stops in the doorway as he puts his phone back into his pocket. "And do yourself a favour and stay away from Kyle. As a friend of his, and I mean this sincerely, you're better not knowing him at all."

And just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving me to mull over his words.