Read Online This Much Is True by Katherine Owen - Free Book Online Page B

trailed along the ceiling’s edge. A little glazed now, the lights shimmer at me; I swill my drink in salutation. The interested guy from earlier stands in front of me again.
    Tall. Dark. Handsome . He is the cliché for sex on a stick, but he’s kept me company during the past half-hour. I brazenly take in this male-model look he has going on with his dark-brown wavy hair and his devastating, too-white smile and his tall lean body. Sure. Okay. Bring it on.
    “I’m Linc,” he says during a respite from the loud music.
    “As in President Abraham—”
    “Not funny.” He sighs and shakes his head side-to-side and gets this disconcerted look. “Lincoln Presley.”
    “Elvis is in the building then,” I deadpan.
    He looks taken aback now. “What did you say?”
    “I said …” I lose my train of thought because he is stunning—so good-looking, in fact—that these warning bells seem to go off in my head. I shake it to try to shut them off. “Never mind.” His look is weirding me out as if I know him from somewhere. “You remember,” I say softly. “ Elvis ?”
    “I remember,” he says slowly and gets this expectant look. “Do you remember ?”
    I’m just staring at him open-mouthed. “No. My mom loved him when she was a teenager. I like a few of his songs…” My voice trails off because he looks disappointed by my answer, and I’m not sure why.
    “Don’t you remember?” he asks again.
    “Remember what?” I look at him blankly and then break his gaze and start toward the punch bowl for a fifth round.
    He takes the glass from my hand and then hands me bottled water. “Drink this. That stuff has Everclear in it. You shouldn’t have any more of that unless you’re going for anesthetization.”
    “Gallant. How noble of you,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can. Then I shake off his concerned hand on my arm, uncap the bottled water, and drink it down. “Happy now?”
    He nods slowly and eventually smiles and then proceeds to take me in from head-to-toe in one long, practiced, seductive move. Smooth. I laugh because he’s so blatant about his interest in me now.
    “How are you?” he asks when the music stops playing for a few welcome seconds.
    Odd.
    An odd thing to ask of a stranger.
    “I’m fine.” I give him a bewildered what-the-hell-are-you-asking-me-that-for? look.
    He leans in. “ Who are you?”
    “Oh.” I half-smile. “Holly,” I say with an airy wave of my right hand. The lie comes so easily to my lips that I surprise myself with the ease in which I tell it.
    It is true, when you want to, you can be someone else. Seuss-like.
    “Let’s dance, Holly .”
    I don’t know why I say yes to him. I don’t dance at parties. I save that for my training, usually, but there’s something about him that has me gyrating out on the dance floor, getting bolder with every song they play. All kinds of things are being communicated between us, the least of which is this overriding uninhibited sexual attraction for one another.
    We both know where this is going.
    His eyes light up and crinkle at the corners as he notably watches me while I ratchet up my dance moves to a rather risqué level, by the time we’re through the fifth song. We have a bit of an audience now as the party people begin to gather and lasciviously watch us move without inhibition across the dance floor. The alcohol buzz being carried through my system feels like water being passed along a fire line that is way too late to actually fight the intense blaze with. I’m buzzed, more than a little drunk, and definitely emboldened.
    After another song, I strip off my outer black sweater and toss it toward Marla, who catches it one-handed and grins suggestively back at me. Now, she’s saying something to Charlie. The two of them lean closer together in order to be heard over the music. They talk intently now. Her ex-boyfriend doesn’t even glance in my direction because he only has eyes for Marla.
    Meanwhile, my dance partner