Page 12 of Scar

Sean rolls his eyes at me, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "Like we'd let you pay during your own birthday." He saidlike thatwas somehow obvious. I've been friends with Carlie since I was a kid. She's never paid for anything for me. I've also been in this group since I was eighteen. Every year, they've skipped over my birthday like it was nothing. I don't know how he expects me to assume the group would ever pay for anything for me. "That's really nice and all, but I have some pretty good plans." Ilie. Really, I'm just not comfortable letting them pay for me. Carlie laughs, scoffing at me. "Yeah, right. You're going to go home and sit in front of the TV. You're going." She insists.

I guess I'm going out tonight.

Chapter 15

Leon's POV

My girl is going out tonight.

Let me tell you, she looks like a bombshell. She walked out of her apartment with her friends around her, making me want to act up. Fuck.

She's wearing a gorgeous spaghetti strap white lace dress that dips to a low “V” on her chest and comes down past her knees. She has on these flat sandals that tie around her calves with thin leather straps, and for once her hair is down. It's flawless, she's flawless.

In all its glory, her hair is long and wavy, coming far past her butt and all I can picture is wrapping it around my fist while I fuck her senseless. Or possibly putting her hair in those goofy ass space buns so I could grip onto them like handlebars and mercilessly fuck her throat. I have to shake these thoughts out of my head before I drag this fucking goddess into the bathroom at whatever bar they're going to. But the sight of my girl with mascara streaming down her face and my cock in the back of her throat is now branded in my mind.

I truly don't understand how Maeve is the outcast of her friend group when she's this fucking hot. All that Carlie girl has that Maeve doesn't is big tits, but Maeve has the ass. That perfect round, thick ass that I just want to smack so I can watch it bounce. I want to sink my teeth into her perfect little ass until my mark is on her forever. Fuck, now I really am a pervert with a boner watching a group of college girls go off to party.

I'm convinced this friend group has outcast Maeve because she's more attractive than they are. I see how they eye her, I see how they glare at her when men stare at her instead of them, I see how the men around campus look at her. Everyone knows how incredible she is. They just don't want her to see it. It's sad, embarrassing for them that they feel they have to dim my Maeve to make themselves look better. I will never dim the beautiful light my girl has, I want everyone to know that I have the hottest woman in Texas by my side.

I drive behind them as the group piles into several different cars, heading off towards some Mexican inspired restaurant right off campus. I don't see how my girl is going to be able to eat anything at this place. I've been here, it's all cheese, slow cooked meats, lard. Nothing my girl normally eats. I hope they took her diet into consideration when deciding on this place. But I don't want to give too much credit to her friends. They seem careless.

Maeve is sat on the end of a long, rectangular table. I'm not sure if she's at the end because she's the birthday girl, or because these girls are insecure that if they sit next to the hottest girl in their group, they won't look as good. Either way it works for me, I have a perfect view of her from the other end of the small dining room. I know I'm not with her, but I'm not ditching her on her birthday celebration like I'm sure her friends will soon.

Honestly, I don't see what she sees in them. They're not even talking to her. The whole group orders margaritas, aside from Maeve, who orders some type of yellow bottled soda. Pineapple flavored, maybe? I don't know, but she doesn't seem to trust this place. She has her own bottle of water in her bag that she pulls out after quietly talking to the waiter about it. My girl is always so considerate.

Maeve's whole group ends up tipsy pretty quickly while Maeve quietly snacks on the tortilla chips that she brought from home and a small bowl of salsa that the waiter brought specifically for her. That is until the guy of the group dips one of his chips into her salsa. She fakes a smile, one that makes me want to jump up and slam this guy's head on the table. She's clearly upset, and either nobody notices, or nobody cares. She abandons her salsa after that, opting to eat her chips plain while the rest of the group eats the food they've ordered. Everyone has burritos, rice, beans, and queso. All kinds of variety. But not my girl.

I flag the waiter down, quietly asking him why she hasn't ordered a meal. I can tell he doesn't want to answer me, but he finally does after I give him a little pressure. "The kitchen staff could not guarantee anything was gluten-free aside from the house made pico, even that wasn't promised unless we made a batch just for her since the vinegar we usually use is processed in a facility that is not gluten-free. Normally they wouldn't make a single serving of pico at all, but that young girl is so nice that even the head chef insisted we do it." He explains. I sigh at that. My girl is this picky about the newest fad? I don't get it, but I'm not about to judge her.

I just wish that her so called friends cared enough about her to have picked a place that she could actually eat at. If she were with me, we would have gone to a wonderful restaurant. I would have rented the whole place out and made sure she had an amazing dinner, one she didn't have to bring from home. I would have treated her to the nicest wines and the best service before demanding the staff leave us so I could enjoy my dessert, her, in peace.

Maeve's group sits there for hours, I guess I can't complain. The food is good, and it gives me the chance to read through my emails and write out a few patient notes while she enjoys herself. Except she looks miserable. Every time I look atma petitefleur, she looks like she just wants to leave, and nobody around her seems to notice.

A few girls of her group get up, stumbling drunk towards the bathroom. I can smell the tequila on them as they walk by. It's so strong that I'm not sure how they're still standing. But what pisses me off is what they're attempting and failing at, whispering to each other as they pass my table. "So what's the plan?" One of the girls asks the other. The second girl lets out an embarrassingly loud laugh before answering. "Everyone slowly goes to the bathroom to wash their hands. We all wait for each other in the car and leave whatever her name is with the bill. That way, we have more money to drink at the bar!" She slurs.

My girl is already cutting a close budget. She already didn't eat a single thing other than the free pico that comes with stepping foot in this place. And they want to stick her with the entire bill from all twelve people here? They've all been drinking. They all had full meals and desserts, but they want to stick my girl with the bill?

I flag down the waiter, I hate this. But I can't let her get stuck with the bill and I can’t let her find out about their plan, it will crush her. "That entire table is on my tab." I tell him with an annoyed huff as I hand him my credit card. "Make up somelie, I don't care what it is, just do not point me out. Thousandth customers? Birthday special? An anonymous patron wanted to treat them. Whatever." I say, waving my hand for him to go ring up their table.

I can hear the waiter excitedly telling the table that had now dwindled down to four that a patron heard it was my girl's birthday and wanted to treat her. Everyone else claps happily, letting out a loud cheer and practically darting out the door towards the parking lot. I wonder if they're going to wait for Maeve?

She doesn't seem to move until the rest are gone, but I see her asking the waiter something. Whatever it is, he's nodding his head and smiling at her. She digs in her purse while the waiter tells her something and shakes his head no, I don't know what's going on. Not until I see my girl pull a crumpled twenty out of her purse and attempt to hand it to him. He refuses. He must think my tip was sufficient. It better have been, I tipped him far above the average so he’d keep quiet about this. That or he doesn't feel right taking a tip from the only person he didn't actually serve. But she leaves it on the table as soon as the waiter walks away. I know how tight her budget is, so I know that is probably all the money she had. She looks a little sad as she looks around at the empty table, seeing nobody was waiting for her and nobody else had left money. It’s official, I hate Maeve’s friends. They don’t seem like good people and they’re certainly not good enough to be friends with Maeve.

Maeve does a quick scan of the restaurant. I assume she's looking for someone to acknowledge her glance and admit to paying the tab, but I hide my face with the menu. I don't want recognition for being a better person than her so-called friends. The bar is so low for this girl that it's sad. But when she doesn't see anyone look back at her, she quietly leaves the restaurant. And I'm right on her tail. I'm surprised to see one of the cars waiting for her, the other two are already gone. But the one with her best friend and the guy are waiting. So, I follow them in my car towards their next stop.

Chapter 16

Maeve's POV

I hate going out. I don't know why I agreed to this. I have a birthday cake at home that I spent far too much money on, but no. Instead, I'm here, starving. Sean dipped his chips into my pico, contaminating it. So all I've eaten is the tortilla chips that I brought with me from home. I wish they'd wanted to take me to a restaurant that accommodates celiacs, but I can't complain when they all insist I come out with them, can I? But I'd like to. I'm hungry. Some drunk guy stepped on my foot ten minutes ago. It's far too loud, and I'm honestly tired. But my birthday is officially in five minutes and I would like my first ever drink. I hope the rumors are true that a bar will give you your first drink for free on your birthday. If not, I have five dollars, and I hope a single shot is less than that, so I can still tip.

My group is already on the dance floor, drinks in hand as they crowd each other. It's a mess of sweaty bodies, the stench of liquor, and someone for sure has been smoking pot because I can smell it in the thick air of this crowded club.

I ignore all the commotion and make my way toward the bar. The bartender gives me a short nod but doesn't acknowledge me otherwise as he's serving other people. That's fine, I can't order for five more minutes anyway. But when he finally focuses on me, I feel awkward. "Hi, I was wondering if it's true about your first legal drink being free?" I ask kindly. Maybe it's just the loud music, but I swear I thought I heard this guy huff at me. "Nope. Order something or stop crowding my bar." He says gruffly.

I sigh, nodding my head. "Sorry. How much is the cheapest shot of either rum, tequila, vodka, or whiskey?" I ask him. This guy rolls his eyes at me, okay, so I didn't make that up. He is annoyed with me. "Bottom shelf is nine dollars a shot." He answers.

I frown, giving him a small nod before walking away. I'm heading to find someone, anyone from my group and let them know I'm going home so they don't worry. It'll take me far too long to get there. Busses are closed at this hour, I can't afford a taxi, and I'm six miles from home. But whatever. I feel stupid for even coming out. I could've been happily asleep in some sugar induced haze right now, drunk on birthday cake or something. But no, I'm here. Miserable.