Just A Small Town Girl: A New Adult Romantic Comedy Read Free Page A

in here with the cast of American Psycho . Fucking awesome. And since when did she smoke so much? I knew she could go through a pack a night when we were drinking but she seemed to have spent most of tonight outdoors.
     I fought my way to the door. As I neared the door I dodged a waitress coming past with a tray of empties, and collided with him. He had dark hair. Probably. Maybe. Blue eyes. I think. The smile, though. That was the problem. That was the cause of all the later...mess. It wasn't a toothpaste commercial smile; no veneers here, but it had a sideways slant that made me pause where I would usually have plowed on towards the exit.
     "You look like someone who needs a drink," he said.
     I felt obscenely under-dressed. "Forget it," I said. "If I need anything right now I need a shirt."
     The next thing I knew he was undoing his buttons. Funny guy. I kept moving. I just wanted to go home. As I reached the door I felt a hand on my shoulder and the next thing I knew he was standing in front of me in nothing but his undershirt with his black button-up flourished before him like a bullfighter's cape.
     "You want to walk over it or wear it?" he said, making to lay his shirt in front of me in an exaggerated display of gallantry.
     "I'm sorry, I have to go," I said.
     "Go where? The party's getting started. Jeez, Louise - I give you the shirt off my back and you want more?"
     "I don't want your shirt," I said. "And my name's not Louise."
     His smile didn't falter. I think his eyes were green. Men with green eyes are always trouble. "So what is it?" he asked, his head cocked in a way that just made the slant of his smile all the more annoying.
     I thought of all the names I'd wanted in place of my own when I was a child - plain Jane, honest Anne. Anything ordinary to take away the taste of my absurd handle. Or something sporty and preppy - Stacey, Heather, Lindsay. The last one popped out of my mouth before I could stop myself and I consoled myself for the lie by telling myself that at least they both began with L.
     "Lindsay," he said. "Huh. Cute." He waggled the shirt at me. "Sure you don't want this? Because you look kind of cold."
     I was cold. I'd checked my jacket in at the club and the gooseflesh on my arms only served to remind me how stupid I'd looked in the mirror. I shook my head but I'd hit that stage of drunk where the tiniest kindness could tip me over into tears, and so it did. In that moment I lived up to my real name and began sniveling and shivering like the biggest loser on the planet.
     He put the shirt around my shoulders. It smelled of some kind of good cologne and I could tell right away that he kept the good stuff for special occasions and probably stuck to Old Spice or something on regular days; he didn't smell of money. He had one of those lousy tribal tattoos around the top of his arm, and a dent in the lobe of his ear where he had probably removed an earring, the better to fit in with this preppy crowd.
     "Don't you need this?" I said, trying to convince myself I wasn't stupidly grateful. It was amazing the difference that an extra layer between you and the world could make.
     "Nah," he said. "I'm used to going without. I'm a stripper."
     "Oh," I said. It was, on reflection, a pretty moronic thing to say but my mind went all kinds of obvious places. Was he the kind who went down to a G-string or did he do the full monty?
     I probably didn't make myself look much better by saying "Really?"
     "Yeah," he said. "I'm a stripper. I strip. What do you do? Because you don't belong here."
     Despite the chill in the air I felt my face turn hot. I drew a little closer to him, strangely pleased that someone had pointed it out. It was like being back in high school again - that moment where the goth kids or the art geeks make room for you at their table; the relief of their acceptance not only took the sting off being rejected by the alpha pack, but there was also a weird sense of pride in