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I follow his gaze and find again my nemesis. Cassie is leaning against the bar, dressed in hot shorts and a short blouse that leaves her taut belly bare. Beside her is Manon, sleek, pretty and the object of Seth’s current obsession.
I frown at her. “What chance?”
“A chance, man. Unlike me. I’m unlucky. Always getting the wrong end of the stick.”
“What do you mean?”
“Manon. She’s with someone. I even saw her with the guy, dammit. So yeah.” He raises his bottle and drains the last drop from it. “Sucks.”
“Seth, focus.” I remove the bottle from his hand and shake it at him. “Amber. Chances. Does it ring any bells, or were you talking out of your ass?”
“No, man.” He slouches back in his chair and rotates his bad shoulder with a wince. “It’s just that Micah heard that Amber was happy with the flowers you sent her. That’s positive, right?”
Right. “Where did he hear that?”
“Kayla, I bet. Who cares?”
But then why hasn’t Amber texted me or called me in all this time?
“I swear I don’t get chicks,” I mutter, viciously stripping the label from my beer bottle. “With a guy we’d hash it out, punch each other bloody, then go for beers.”
“Heh. Better not try that with Amber.” Seth snickers, though his gaze has wandered back to a certain dark-haired girl. “It won’t go down very well.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” But I don’t know what else to do. “I think I should let her go. Give it up. Hell, for all I know I’m harassing her with my gifts and calls.”
“Didn’t you just hear me say she was happy with your flowers?”
“Yeah. Micah heard from Kayla.” I make air quotes with my fingers. “Bullshit, man. I don’t believe it. She’d have called me if she believed me. And if she doesn’t, then who cares about the fucking flowers?” I rub a hand over my face. “Christ, I’m beat. Think I’ll head home to bed.”
“First time I heard you call that apartment home. Wasn’t it Jackass and Co.?” He grins, and I snort.
He’s right, though. “I haven’t had any problems with the guys recently.”
They have been sort of… nice, in fact. Friendly. Gage even helped me make the muffins, and Travis, well he helped eat them. Idiot. As for Alex… I can’t figure him out, but he’s been hanging around, quietly loading the laundry in the machine and washing dishes.
Can’t remember the last time I did the dishes, not in the funk I spent the last two weeks in.
“Well, I’m leaving, too.” Seth gets up to go. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
He takes a detour to talk to his cousin, Shane, and I hang back, not wanting to talk to the guys. Not in the mood. Depression clings to me like a grimy film, darkening the world.
Seth performs a complicated handshake with Shane, says something to the others, and then we’re on our way out of the bar.
The night air is cool. The streets are quiet, few cars passing by, although groups of people wander from bar to bar, laughing and talking.
I remember watching them when I slept under the stars, wondering how it must be to not have a care in the world, to go out and have fun with your friends and not worry. And not fret. Not ache in your soul.
Well, I was wrong. Looks like money doesn’t change the ways we hurt.
And as we stumble through quiet back streets and stop, about to part and go our separate ways, that past returns with a vengeance to show me just how wrong I was.
The blow catches me in the back of my knees, throwing me to the ground. Pain explodes across my jaw and I roll on my side, groaning.
Right on time to see Simon and his goon beat on Seth with baseball bats, while kicking him in the ribs.
“No!” I scramble to my feet and launch myself at them. “Leave him alone. Fuck off!”
I kick and punch, but there are three of them, and Seth is out for the count, clutching his leg, his face white like paper.
