Color-Gifted (Color-Gifted, #1)

Chapter Nineteen

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

When we reach the bar, Evan is holding a beer in his hand and is talking to Keene, who has his back to James. James is still sitting on the high stool behind Keene, and as we get closer I see he’s actually talking to Sandra and Jerry, engaging in conversation with them. That looks promising. Neveah and Dwayne are still nowhere to be seen.

Huh. They must still be dancing. Nice.

I didn’t spot either of them on the dance floor as we weaved our way over here, but I did see Michelle and David again. Great. Good thing they didn’t see me; I have way more important things to deal with right now.

When we’re a few feet away from the bar, in a tiny clearing by the throbbing mass, Myra stops me. “Okay,” she says, letting out a breath. “We split up, act natural and bring them together. Sandra’s in on it, too. She’s gonna take the boys out to the dance floor.”

My heart speeds up in anticipation. “Deal.”

Myra squeezes my hand once, and then marches over to James. She tousles his hair as she leans into him, and he smiles at her and wraps one arm around her waist before turning back to Jerry. Wow. He must really like the guy. I look at Jerry, and he seems to be doing just fine. He doesn’t seem intimidated by James. In fact, they look absorbed, heavy in conversation about something exciting.

As soon as I reach my friends, Sandra whips her head around to me, her eyes wide and a look of amazement on her face. She reaches me and gives me a tight hug, and a vibrant springtime sun glows under my skin. “Good for you,” she says simply, but it’s warm and emphatic and I know she means every word. Then she pulls back and says, “I’ve got orders to take Keene and Jerry away.”

“I know. Wish me luck.”

Sandra squeezes my arm, and my butterflies settle. “You don’t need it. We’ll figure this out.” And with that, she’s off. A moment later she’s distracted Keene and Jerry and leads them away.

I take Keene’s place and motion to Evan to bend closer. I love the fact that he towers over me; the top of my head just skims his shoulder, and while it may look awkward or uncomfortable to anyone else, it isn’t. Somehow, we fit.

I push those thought away, as I lean closer to Evan’s ear, but I can’t resist spreading out my palm on his solid chest. “Remember, this is for Myra. Play nice, okay? Please.” Like I said, I don’t want to tell him about the other reason. Not yet.

I lean back to look at him and his expression is mixed: part resignation, part seriousness, and part . . . something else. He nods and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, before taking a seat on the stool behind him. I have to move out of the way because between his legs and James’s back, there’s no space for me to lean against the bar. Instead, I stand next to Evan and turn to face James and Myra, who have now turned our direction, and the four of us form a tight group by the bar.

James is looking at us with an unreadable look in his eyes, and I can feel Evan tense up next to me, even though we’re barely touching. There’s a long, awkward moment of silence between us that even the booming music doesn’t cover, and as I look at Myra and start to get a little panicked, she blurts, “Drinks?”