Attachments make me uneasy, which is why I had no problem choosing dare every time while playing the game on our drive here. I don’t want anyone in my life. The only reason Cooper is as close to me as he is, is because he doesn’t want or expect anything—at least, not yet. That’s the sad part of our relationship. Our brotherhood, while strong, sometimes leaves me leery and waiting for the other shoe to drop because what I’ve learned in life is that money is power and power is absolute. Everyone wants to wield it, and few are capable.
And I have no desire to entertain even a fling with Chloe, knowing that it would be like putting myself between a bullet and a target—guaranteed to end badly. She knows it as well, which is likely why she pretends she never kissed me and has been avoiding me like the plague since.
“Okay, so, what do you guys think about going to Bourbon Street after dinner?” Cooper asks.
“Um, yes!” Vanessa nods enthusiastically. “Definitely.”
Chloe traces a pattern in the condensation on her glass of water, a resigned smile on her face as she watches them.
“We need to go out and get drunk tonight,” Vanessa continues. “Celebrate that Chloe is staying at Brighton.”
“Staying?” my thought slips out as a question.
She takes a fleeting glance in my direction then quickly resumes staring at her glass. “I applied to a program that would have had me moving to Virginia for much of the year,” she says, her attention still on her glass that she’s wiping the condensation clean from for a second time. “But I wasn’t chosen.” She glances up at me and takes a deep breath that hollows her cheeks and much of her exposed collarbone. I notice her eyes are several shades lighter than Vanessa’s.
“Forget them. We and Brighton know how amazingly awesome you are. And tonight, we’re going to celebrate you,” Vanessa says.
Chloe’s fingers slide down the glass, leaving three lines before she moves her hand to the apex where her shoulder and neck meet and digs her fingers into the flesh there.
Sympathy, or maybe it’s compassion, has me staring at Chloe for longer than I should. Unlike her, I’m working to change my future and the many signs telling me I can’t, whereas she’s resigned to let one of her dreams slip away.
I raise a hand when one of the servers looks our way. She hustles to our table. “Yes, sir?”
“Could we get a round of drinks, please?”
She hesitates for a second, likely wondering if she should be asking for our IDs or if that would be insubordination.
“Four Sazeracs,” I tell her.
She nods and disappears into the kitchen.
“What in the hell’s a Sazerac?” Cooper asks.
“You’ll like it,” I tell him. “New Orleans is famous for them.”
“I thought they were known for hurricanes?” Vanessa asks.
I nod. “Those too.”
“We should make a boozy bingo card,” she says.
Chloe shakes her head. “We only have a couple of days, and I don’t want to spend one of them in bed with a hangover.”
“I didn’t say we had to complete the card tonight,” Vanessa replies.
Before Chloe can respond, the waitress returns with a tray of drinks, curled pieces of lemon peel around the top of each glass, and passes them out. “Is there anything else I can get for y’all?”
“Could we get two sweet teas?” Cooper asks.
She nods and looks at Chloe and then me. “What about for you guys?”
“Um, actually, one of the sweet teas is for me,” Chloe says.
The waitress raises her eyebrows but does a quick job of hiding her confusion and looks at Vanessa. “Would you like anything?”
Vanessa smiles, shaking her head. “This is perfect, thanks.”
When the waitress turns her attention back to me, I simply point at my Sazerac.
Cooper’s the first to raise his glass. “Tonight, we celebrate friendship and our final weeks of summer.”
“Cheers,” we echo, clinking our glasses.
Chloe takes a small whiff of her drink and blinks quickly. “That smells strong.”
Vanessa laughs. “Whenever it comes out in such a small pour, it’s pretty much guaranteed to be straight alcohol.”
Chloe turns her attention to me, pushing her hair back and exposing her collarbone again. “We sip it?”
I nod. “It’s not a straight shot. Made well, a Sazerac deserves a little time.”
She raises the glass to her mouth and rolls her tongue over her lips.
I take a sip of my drink in an attempt to swallow the desire her lips evoke. I lean back in my seat, watching the long wave of her lashes fall against her cheek as she tips the glass back to get a taste.
She turns to face me again, surprise evident in her wide eyes. “That’s so different. It’s sweet and spicy and almost herbal.”
“All I taste is whiskey,” Vanessa says as she tosses her drink back like it’s a shot.
Chloe chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re going to make me play tourist alone tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Cooper will go with you,” Vanessa tells her.
Cooper gives a sideways look. “I don’t know. D.C. kind of scarred me for life. I saw one too many hats and shoes from people in history at the Smithsonian Museum.”
“That was three years ago,” Chloe protests.
“And I’m still recovering,” he says.
Vanessa laughs as she nods.
“You guys are going to miss out. I’ve heard the beignets are out of this world. Supposedly, powdered sugar trails for blocks because that many people order them every day.”
Before we can discuss it further, our food arrives. Platters with neatly arranged hors d’oeuvres fill the table, and we dig into the unique flavors of New Orleans that express so much history and culture.
“Should we change?” Vanessa asks as we pass the elevators. “Do we need to dress up?”
“Only if you want to see Coop and me get into a fight,” I tell her, already wondering if I should be asking for someone with security to go with us because the Robinson twins attract attention even in jeans and sweatshirts, much less
