This trainwreck kept getting worse and worse. I was so confused already, but I needed to take control as much as I could before there was any more damage. "I'm just... star struck," I mumbled quietly. "He's so great." I sounded as convincing as an excited robot.
"Aww, don't be shy," Jack said. "It would be an honor if you'd come get a drink with me." He glanced at my almost empty glass and smiled. "Another drink, I mean."
"What?" I blurted out. I turned to look at Tom and noticed that Jesse was back and the two of them were already conversing about something intense on their own. I hadn't even noticed Jesse returning, and it had been what, seconds?
He was just talking to me now. The party had suddenly become very small, so small that it felt suffocating. Had more time just passed than I realized? I felt as if I were trapped in a glass jar, the bug that some kid had caught in the backyard. And like those poor insects, I wanted to be set free.
Jack leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. "You're a good actor, you know? C'mon." He wrapped his arm around my back and I went with him, unable to do anything but that. It wasn't that my body froze—it moved on its own. I managed to make awkward eye contact with Jesse as Jack Teller almost literally swept me away to some other part of the room.
A relentless stream of hellos came from every person we passed, all of them apparently good friends of Jack—or maybe just people who wanted to be his friend. While it didn't surprise me at all, it did make me feel very self-conscious. This guy usually courted Hollywood starlets from what I knew, the total opposite of me. My heart pounded uncontrollably in my chest. All I could do was desperately hope that Jack couldn't sense my tension—and I wasn't optimistic.
He took me around a corner to two open stools and motioned for me to sit down. I did. "What would you like?" he asked. His voice was gentle, yet loud enough to be audible over the chatter of the room.
"I don't know, Jack," I said.
"Okay, how about something appropriate then?" He flagged down the bartender. "Two dry Manhattans, please."
I let out an awkward chuckle. It was a silly, stupid joke. Jack smiled at my response, and it made my heart flutter. At least I could hide that. I sat there silently for a moment, my hands placed neatly in my lap.
"It's so nice to see you again, Effie," Jack said. "I wouldn't have expected this at all."
"Why, because I'm not as rich as you are?" I asked, my tone acidic. "Why the facade in front of Tom?"
He looked off into the room, his expression distant and a little cold. "For fun, I guess. You also have quite the effect on me. I don't know what I'm doing sometimes." No eye contact, unless the bar itself had eyes.
"That was nearly humiliating!" I complained.
"Shush. It went fine. That was a great save on your part. Excellent improvisation." He smiled again, and it almost hurt to look at him. The way the light danced against his skin made him even more handsome, his face something of true beauty. A knot formed in my stomach as I tried to digest what was going on. "I'm glad we got to be on stage together."
I started thinking about his rough, unkempt stubble—it looked as if he hadn't shaved since before our meeting—and how I wanted to feel it rubbing against my skin, rubbing against my thighs as he—
I took a deep breath and then started laughing, trying as hard as I could to extinguish the fire in my belly. "Dammit, Jack," I complained. It was as if he knew what was going on in my head. He rubbed my back in light circles, a sensation that felt good in more places than one. More places being my whole body. Heat filled my core and spread until it reached the space between my thighs, the sensation of vulnerability far more tantalizing than it should have been. It baffled me that this could be happening as a result of this guy barely touching me, a guy that I didn't think I even liked.
Shit, I wasn’t fooling anyone. I was really into him, even if he was totally out of my league. But this wasn't like me at all, no way.
The bartender brought us our drinks and Jack handed him a hundred-dollar bill. My jaw dropped, even though it shouldn't have. Everybody in the room had money like that; well, maybe other than Jesse.
I took a sip and was blown away by how good it was. "Jack, this is great!" It was also strong.
"You've never had a Manhattan? This is one of the few places that does 'em the way I like 'em. It's dry vermouth instead of sweet. I don't like sweet drinks."
Something about a drink being dry seemed to fit Jack's personality very well—at least better than sweet. I also didn't know anything about fancy drinks, so I did my best to piece together the information. I listened as if he were giving a sermon, accepting his wisdom like gospel. "You know, I don't really like these events," he said quietly at the end, almost as if I weren’t supposed to hear it.
"Why are you here then?"
"Just maintaining appearances. Some of these guys help me manage my money, so they always extend an invitation, and I feel bad saying no."
I drank quietly and listened to his words, not really sure of what to say. "I didn't really know anything about you," I admitted sheepishly. "Sam made a huge deal out of you, but I didn't—"
"I could tell," he said.
"What?" I suddenly felt bad about what I had just said. Somebody this famous probably was appalled
