Eurgh. He looked particularly good today, and the bar was set high to begin with. He wore this figure-hugging long-sleeved shirt that was somewhere between maroon and plum, with equally tight khaki chinos. On top of that, the sweet, musky smell of his cologne reached me from across the room. The same one he’d worn all summer. If only smells didn’t trigger memories, I might’ve been able to keep my feelings off my face.
I gave my head a little shake like I was an Etch A Sketch and—my face a blank slate again—returned to my bass playing. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Juliette told me you were here.”
That traitor. “I can’t imagine why she thought that’s something you should know.”
“I asked her where you’ve been. You disappeared.”
Just keep playing. The instrument is way more intere
