Lies. All lies, because she couldn’t hold her friend back from having a life. Pisa’s empty room nagged at Chelsea’s anxiety, and she closed the door and moved down the hall. As she went through the apartment, she turned the lights on. It was bright as the daylight outside in her bedroom, but it wasn’t enough.
It was too quiet. Too lonely.
She was too alone.
She crawled into bed and pulled the sheets up. Practice was tomorrow night. She could last until then. And she could skate in Central Park tomorrow. Maybe she’d call Morning Whorey or Gilmore Hurls and see if they were interested in skating. Probably not, because she knew they had office jobs.
She was alone. Really really alone.
And when she was alone, the anxiety came back.
So she pulled out her phone and went through her contact list. Gretchen was shit at answering texts. Any of her derby friends would just talk about Pisa and right now she didn’t want to think about the loss of her friend. “Safety Date Sebastian” came up in her list, and on a whim, she texted him.
Chelsea: Hey, Safety Boy, are you going to the costume party this weekend?
Safety Date Sebastian: Kinda have to, don’t I? What with being a groomsman and all.
Chelsea: I see we are full of sarcasm today.
SDS: Sorry. Just not a big fan of parties. Kinda feel roped into this one.
Chelsea: I know how that feels! I’d rather not go at all, but Gretchen would never forgive.
SDS: Sounds like we are going to have a fine evening of clinging to the wall together.
Chelsea: Sounds like. I’m glad you are as antisocial as me.
SDS: We shall be two freakish wallflowers together.
She smiled. It didn’t help the ache of loneliness go away, or the fear of being by herself, but it was nice to know someone else was out there, listening.
Chapter Six
“Is . . . that a black eye or part of your costume?” Sebastian stared as a familiar figure roller-skated her way to his side, waving. The engagement party for Gretchen and Hunter was in full swing. Costumed partygoers lined the stately halls of Buchanan Manor, and everywhere there were banners and balloons proclaiming the upcoming nuptials of the happy couple. Waitstaff carried champagne glasses and hors d’oeuvres through the crowd, and people were all laughing and mingling and having a good time. Well, almost all. When a cheerleader and a sexy Cookie Monster hit on him the moment he walked through the door, he knew this was yet another “hookup” party. What was it about weddings that made everyone else frantic to find a partner? He’d even dressed in a low-key costume to try to avoid attention, and it wasn’t working. Which was why he was so glad to see Chelsea as she skated toward him, winding her way through the crowd as if she were born on roller-skates. It was pretty impressive to see.
And damn, she was sexy tonight, too. She was just a friend, but she was rocking her costume. A sticker-covered pink-and-purple helmet topped her curly pigtails, and her dress was a short and tiny purple skating costume with a pleated skirt that did nothing to cover her panties. She wore striped pink-and-purple stockings up to her thighs and kneepads and elbow pads, and looked every inch the part of a hot roller derby girl.
Well, except for the black eye. That was distressing.
But she grinned as she skated up to him and then turned so she could stand at his side. “Yeah, it’s a legit black eye. I ran into an elbow. Got myself a shiner.”
She sounded so casual about the abuse. It worried him, even though it wasn’t his place to bring it up. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m cool.” Chelsea’s gaze swung out over the party. “It is wall-to-wall in here tonight. I thought Hunter wasn’t social?”
“He’s not, but it seems like Gretchen is determined to let the entire world know that she loves the man.”
Chelsea looked over at him and chuckled. “She’s proud of him.”
He fought back the flare of lust at that knowing look she sent him. She was a friend, and she’d made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. He wasn’t either—not really. He was still shuddering from Lisa’s ambush the other day. But her dress was slightly open in the front, revealing some enticing cleavage, and her ass was incredible in the spanky panties she wore underneath her teeny skirt. He was a guy. He couldn’t help it if he was aroused at the sight of a sexy woman, even if she’d friend-zoned him. “Nice outfit.”
“Thanks,” she said, gazing out on the crowd. “Borrowed it from a buddy.” She scanned the room and edged closer to him when a few guys gave her hot looks in passing. “I like your costume, too. What are you?”
“Guess.”
Her gaze moved over him, the nerdy, button-up shirt with the pocket protector he wore, the ill-fitting slacks. The slicked down hair and heavy glasses with tape in the middle. He fished a calculator out of his pocket and held it up, then gave her an expectant look. Chelsea’s nose wrinkled. “Someone from that TV show with the guys? Big Bang Theory?”
“Wrong. I’m a mathlete.” He’d deliberately gone for something unattractive and low-key in the hopes of avoiding attention. So far, it’d been a big bust, too. He was still a little too famous for his own good, and the ladies here tonight were on the prowl.
Chelsea looked him up and down, and then began giggling behind one sports glove. “Mathlete? Are you serious?”
“What, do I not look sufficiently intelligent?” He would not be wounded by her laughter, especially not when it was so charmingly adorable. He found himself grinning at her.
“A mathlete with these guns? Please.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed his muscles. “You’re too built.”
“I am perversely flattered and offended all at once,” he said in a lofty voice, pocketing his calculator once more.
“You should be,” she teased. Her hand still on his arm, she gave the room a worried look. “Man, it’s crowded.”
“Not a big fan of parties?” He was surprised at that. She seemed so effortlessly comfortable in her own skin.
A waiter passed by with glasses of champagne, and she deliberately turned away from him. She wrinkled her nose and looked at Sebastian instead. “It feels more like a meat market than a get-together with friends. I think I saw a Sexy Elmo earlier.”
“I think she showed up with Sexy Cookie Monster and Sexy Chewbacca.”
She leaned in close, and he noticed she smelled of cherries. “They’re stealing all my ideas. Here I’d wanted to be Sexy Chewbacca. Thank goodness I went home and changed, eh?”
He grinned. “The horror of being the same sultry Wookiee as another woman.”
“I know.” She shifted on her skates and then leaned in again, her breast brushing against his arm. “Thank goodness I wore skates. I can make a quick getaway if anyone tries to lay some moves on me.” She grimaced. “Again.”
“Let me guess, accosted as soon as you walked through the door?” He wouldn’t be surprised. Though there were girls in skimpier outfits here tonight, Chelsea looked incredible. He was pretty sure he wasn’t the only man in the room who couldn’t stop staring at her ass, black eye or no black eye.
She nodded and sighed. “It’s like you can’t wear what you want without expecting some jackass to leer at you.”