8. Candice

CHAPTER 8

CANDICE

F or the first time since I met these people, it feels like we're all friends. Even Daniel has relaxed enough to smile, and now that Kyle has stopped trying to assert his superiority, he's almost tolerable. And most surprising of all, Louise is funny .

The bar is loud and crowded, but we've managed to grab a round table for us all to squeeze around. There's a guitarist by the window, hooked into an amp that crackles every time he moves too much. He's singing sad love songs, a vibe that's totally incongruous with the atmosphere in the place. We celebrate as everyone else moves around us, holding their own successes and heartbreaks, unheard over the sounds of other people living.

Not that we're being particularly quiet either. We're downing cocktails like we want to put the bar out of business and are talking over each other at increasing volume, all of us eating and yelling and dancing whenever a song we know comes on. If only we could have acted like this over the last month. Maybe it would have made everything fun.

I barely have time to catch my breath from laughing when the third or fourth mai tai is deposited in front of me. I'm not exactly drunk — not yet, anyway — but this has to be the last one. Otherwise, I'm going to wake up with the worst headache ever, and I don't want to look hungover when I get awarded the job.

It's a prestigious kind of event. I can't do it feeling like I'm about to vomit or, worse, looking like it.

"Cheers," I say, lifting the glass. The others clink theirs off mine, ice cubes bouncing musically against the glass. The coldness is sharp against the hot bar, but a nice relief. If I were any more drunk, I might be tempted to tip it over myself.

Blair leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. He's just put his deck of cards away, having solidly thrashed us all at poker. He gives us a smug look like he's about to start a fight. "Who's got it, then?"

"Is it a question?" asks Kyle, sipping his whiskey like he doesn't care.

"Yes!" says Louise firmly, probably being the most assertive she's ever been in her life, if her displeased eyebrows and folded arms are anything to go by. "We've all worked hard. Any one of us deserves this."

"Go for it if you want to believe that," says Kyle, though I noticed his shaking hands in his presentation too.

The truth is, we're all nervous and eager to get this job. And Louise is right. We've each done all that we can. At this point, we can't do anything besides hope. The decision is probably already made, and worrying isn't going to change anything. Not that that makes it any easier to push it out of my mind.

Clearly a sentiment Daniel agrees with. "Come on, guys. Let's talk about anything else but work, please . What we really deserve is to let our hair down."

"You'll have to grow some first," says Louise, earning another laugh.

"Best I can do is buy you another drink," he grins with a look that's probably supposed to look smooth but really looks kind of dopey.

"Whoa there, cowboy," says Kyle, raising his eyebrow, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. "Did you forget Aiden's got the monopoly on being the lover boy?"

Aiden's grip on my hand tightens — we've been holding hands under the table all evening, letting our fingers explore every contour of our palms. "Just because you can't get any, doesn't mean you have to be nasty about it," he says, leveling his best glare of disdain at Kyle.

The others all gasp and ooh in mock horror at the comeback. "You won't be laughing when you're all unemployed tomorrow morning," Kyle sniffs, but a light flush on his cheeks proves that Aiden got under his skin.

"Yeah, right," mutters Louise, but her batting eyelashes and pursed lips give her away too. She's been subtle, but I've noticed the way she's been hanging on to Kyle's every word, flipping hot and cold between fighting him and agreeing with him. If we were genuinely friends, I'd tell her she deserves way better than that guy. He's the kind of guy who'd only ever see her as a commodity, something to show off at parties. I might not get on with her that well, but I would hate to see her chase a guy who would use her.

Daniel flags down a waiter and orders everyone a round of shots before things escalate into a real argument. The tipsy buzz it gives us all takes the edge off the atmosphere, and we drift back into lighter conversation. I think it's a relief to everyone.

We're in the middle of a heated discussion about the future of social media when Blair gets up. "You guys are great," he says. "But I don't want to look like I haven't slept when I get awarded the best job in the world."

"Arrogant prick," says Kyle, standing too.

"Look who's talking ." They stare at one another for a long while, like they're either about to start fighting or making out, until they both back down, deciding it's not worth it. "Let's call a cab?"

Blair nods — of course he does. He's seen the way that Kyle's trying to assert himself as the leader and, like a good sycophant, he's been sucking up to him this whole time. It's been quite sickening to watch, to be honest. I'm pretty sure Kyle would use and dispose of Blair in a heartbeat too.

As they leave, Louise jumps up. "Hey, wait for me!"

I don't think it escapes anyone's notice the way she clings on to Kyle's arm as they head for the door.

Daniel finishes the last of his lavish cocktail then grins at us. "I'd best get going too. Leave you both to it." He winks at us, and adds, "See you guys tomorrow."

Aiden and I both wave a little goodbye, and then it's us, alone in a noisy room where no one's looking. The lights are low, the guitarist now onto ballads, the crowd thinner than before but still enough to make us anonymous. Anything could happen.

"They're full of shit," Aiden whispers to me, leaning in to my ear until I can almost feel his lips brush over my skin. I giggle in agreement. "What do you say we get out of here too?"

I turn my head to face him, and we're so close that there's barely a breath of distance between our noses. Our hands are still entwined as they have been all evening, and every inch of my body is screaming out for him, wanting me to stop hesitating, to jump, to stop the whispers of doubt in the back of my mind that are telling me how much this is going to hurt later. The static crackle of attraction between us is making me stone-cold sober.

I know where this is leading. My mind is clear enough to make a choice. It's my heart that's complaining. It's asking not to get broken.

"And where exactly do you propose we go?"

He leans back to press his knuckles into his lips in mock thoughtfulness. "Hmm… Well, I do have an apartment that's way too big for one."

"You're asking to take me home with you?"

He cocks an eyebrow, the dim light of the bar dancing over his face in orange and purple, casting deep shadows that draw my eyes down his neck towards his perfectly proportioned chest. "If I was, what would you say?"

One night can't hurt, right?

I lean in again, brushing my lips over his cheek as I go to whisper in his ear. "Yes."