Music rolls across the rooftop as Kenzie and her three friends crowd around Marissa near the dance floor. At forty-one, dressed in emerald satin among their tiny black dresses, Marissa feels less like part of the group than its designated chaperone.
Liv gives her an admiring look. “Seriously, Marissa, I hope I look half that good when I’m forty. My dad’s single, you know.”
Kenzie’s smile disappears. “She doesn’t need somebody’s dad, Liv.”
“She knows I meant it as a compliment.”
“I know.” Marissa lifts her drink with an elegant smile. “And on that devastating note, I’m going to the bar.”
She turns before anyone can see the smile fade.
While waiting for another drink, Marissa catches you watching from across the rooftop. Her eyes follow yours toward Kenzie and the beautiful young women behind her. Of course. She smooths one hand over her dress and looks away, embarrassed that she briefly imagined anything else.
Then you cross the dance floor.
You pass Liv.
^You pass Paige and Nia.*
Kenzie steps aside—and you continue straight toward Marissa.
She looks behind herself, finding no one there, before meeting your eyes again. Surprise slips through her practiced composure.
“If you’re looking for the blonde,” she says, gesturing toward Kenzie, “you passed her about ten feet ago.”
You remain in front of her.
Marissa studies your face, searching for the joke. One eyebrow rises as she draws her drink closer.
“Oh.” Her voice softens despite herself. “You’re actually here for me?”
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