Free Do Over by Emily Evans Page A

Blaine’s bewildered look made me want to laugh as much as it annoyed me. I sucked in a breath of air that didn’t taste like cigar.
    He reached for my arms.
    I dodged him. “Honestly, this isn’t really working for me. I think I’ll meet up with some friends. No need to give me a ride home.” I darted through the nearest doorway and stopped a random waiter. “Excuse me,” I asked. ”Which way to the bathroom?”
    The waiter gestured. Inside, I rinsed my mouth out under a faucet coated in gold and used a small hand towel to blot my mouth. Sometimes I’d see rich, old guys with younger wives and wondered if money made someone more tolerable. It didn’t. I used my cell to call Lauren. “Hey, can you come get me? My date is, well...please.”
    “Sure, hold on a sec.”
    Then I heard Lauren’s slightly muffled words through the earpiece. “Hey, Pez got stranded. Can someone take me to get her? John, are you listening?”
    Great.
    After a pause, Lauren’s voice returned. “No problem.”
    “Thanks. Head toward River Oaks, and I’ll text you the address.” After hanging up, I left the bathroom and flagged down another waiter.
    “Excuse me, but what’s the address here?” My eyes were on my phone, fingers in the typing position.
    No response.
    I looked up.
    The waiter had raised his bushy eyebrows. “This is a private party,” he explained. “You can’t send out the address to invite others.”
    I scanned the room and spotted Skye. She gave me the address, and I sent the text. Seeing me with Skye made the waiter wince and rush a drink to me. I didn’t want one, but I took it anyway to keep the peace. Hello, lemon wedge.
    Skye turned out to be pretty cool. We talked clothes for a while and she introduced me around. It made the hour’s wait before my phone beeped go quickly. My message read, Your ride is here . It was from Trey. I rolled my eyes. Great. The whole gang had come.
    On my way out, I ran into Asher.
    “Hey, you leaving early?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Some friends of mine are here.”
    “Invite them in,” he urged.
    “Oh, uh, thanks, but…” I shrugged. “Another time.”
    Asher followed me through the front door. “Sure. What’s your digits?”
    Trey’s silver Porsche Carrera GT, a two-seater convertible, sat parked in the center of the driveway.
    “I could show you some more paintings some time,” Asher continued as we walked.
    “Maybe.” From my peripheral gaze, I saw Trey get out of the driver’s side. “Um, okay.” I said my number, waved, and headed toward Trey. He opened the passenger door, and I slid down onto the dark leather seat. “Thanks for the lift.”
    Trey closed my door and strode around to the driver’s side. “Not such a perfect date, huh?”
    I clicked on the passenger seatbelt. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Nice car. I pressed the plush leather of the dashboard. “You wouldn’t really park this car in a field and run the radio for prom, would you?”
    Trey shrugged and shifted gears, easing down the drive. “Yeah.”
    I scooted around in my seat to get more comfortable. “You know what they say about guys and grey cars. Right?”
    “No.”
    “They can’t commit. They can’t even commit to a color.”
    Trey made kind of a “Huh” noise and made quick work exiting the neighborhood.
    “Where’s your date?” I asked as we hit the northbound on-ramp.
    He shrugged and switched lanes. “I dropped Jessica off first. She wasn’t happy.”
    “I wish my name was something normal like Jessica. I could’ve excused my parents for Paisley if I were born in the eighties. But I was born in the nineties. My name should’ve been something pretty like Megan or Heather or Rachel.”
    “What’s your middle name?” Trey asked.
    My eyes widened, and I moved my gaze to the side window. I shouldn’t have gotten on the forbidden subject. I ignored his question and probed further into his life. “Where’s your mom live?”
    “Mostly in