After Tonight
Annie Kelly
InterMix Books, New York
AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUSE LLC
375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014
AFTER TONIGHT
An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2015 by Annie Kelly.
Excerpt from Until Tomorrow copyright © by Annie Kelly.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-41224-8
PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / November 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Penguin Random House is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Until Tomorrow
About the Author
For Josh
There I was, ’way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute.
—F. Scott Fitzgerald
There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.
—Mark Twain
Chapter One
The Girls’ Night Out
“You wrote me a to-do list? For the bar?”
“I wrote you a to-do list for the bar,” Carson confirms, flashing me a smile.
When she grins like that, the combination of short dark hair and delicate features makes my former college roommate look less like a human and more like a fairy. Or a demon disguised as a fairy, but intent on getting me to break all of my carefully constructed rules.
“Number one,” Rainey, our other perpetual partner in crime, reads from over my shoulder. “Drink an entire Long Island Iced Tea. Yes, the whole thing.”
She snorts a laugh. “Hyacinth never drinks anymore. She didn’t even drink a whole glass of champagne on New Year’s.”
Carson shrugs. “It’s always good practice to start pushing your boundaries.”
“Or demolishing them,” I grumble. “Are you serious about number two? Get out on the dance floor and shake that ‘thang’?”
“Of course! You’re a good dancer—you just need to loosen up and let yourself relax.”
“Um, I don’t have a thang to shake.”
“Dude. You have thangs to shake,” Rainey says, staring pointedly at my cleavage. “Two of them, in fact.”
“Look who’s talking,” I snort.
Of the three of us, Rainey is definitely the one who gets the most attention when we go out. She’s a bombshell in every sense of the word—blond hair, huge boobs, legs for days, all of that. Pretty much every man I’ve ever met loses his train of thought if she happens to stroll by in a skirt or gym shorts.
I fall back against the passenger’s seat of Carson’s Jeep and cross my arms. It’s not like I’ve never sown my wild oats. I’ve done my fair share of drunk karaoke, table dances, and walks of shame. And, yes, I’ve only been in one really serious relationship (and, yes, he took off for med school with my favorite fleece blanket and my Ravens mug), but that’s over now. I’ve finally reconciled the fact that Brent thinks his future and mine don’t mix. Reconciled, but not exactly forgotten. Even the memories still sting.
“My personal favorite is number three,” Carson says from the driver’s seat, glancing away from the road and over at me. “Find the hottest man in the room and take him home.”
Rainey loops her arms around my shoulders from the backseat and gives them a squeeze. “Liquor, booty-shaking, and man candy. There’s no better way to kick off the weekend than that, right, Cyn?”
I scowl a little. “You do realize that I am a teacher of America’s youth, where I need to be a role model? Someone for them to look up to?”
“You’re a student teacher,” Carson says, giving me a pointed look. “You won’t technically be a teacher until you’ve finished student teaching. That’s the way it works, dude.”
“Exactly,” Rainey says, settling back in her seat. “Besides, we’re all in the same boat here, right? Yeah, we aren’t all teaching, but I’m running the Y’s afterschool program now, and Carson’s tutoring three days a week. We all have to be role models during our work time. But during our playtime, all bets are off.”
“Oh,” I scoff, “then obviously I should just go out and Miley it up. Maybe someone will film me twerking and put it on YouTube. That’s one way to get the kids to respect me.”
Rainey shrugs. “I just want you to have fun. You’re always so serious and you work so hard. You deserve a break.”
I can’t help but smile. That’s a trademark Rainey move, the way she frets over the people she loves. At the end of the day, she really just wants to take care of others. When I first met her as an undergrad, she wanted to be a clinical psychiatrist. Then a child psychologist. Now that she’s finishing her master’s in social work, she swears she’s found her niche. Still, I’m pretty sure that, under the right circumstances, she’d give it all up and join the Peace Corps.
Carson, on the other hand, was born to be a teacher, and I’m still struggling to understand why she didn’t apply to student teach when I did. Whenever I’ve asked, she just shrugs and says something about her “working better one-on-one.” She’s a great tutor and everything, so it’s not like she’s wrong. I’ve just learned not to broach the subject with her anymore.