“Also, did you see the biceps on that bouncer?” Jules asks. “No one’s getting in here if they’re creepy and if they do, they’re not getting out alive.”
The server brings us our drinks and as she’s telling us to enjoy our nights, I swear she calls me Mrs. Maddox, but there’s a champagne pop behind us followed by loud cries that I think I misheard her.
She definitely wouldn’t have called me Mrs. Maddox, anyway. It’s my brain thinking about Roman.
I’m trying not to think of him and wonder if he’s having a good time with the boys. It’s probably strange for him to have so many people in his apartment when the only people who are ever there are me or Kita.
We all cheer and drink. Girls’ night is good for the soul. It’s been so long since Jules and I had a proper girls’ night where we got dressed and went out. The last time was in Las Vegas.
“You know what we need?” Jules says. “A cool name for our group chat. Why do the boys get HoBros and we get nothing?”
“They call themselves the HoBros?” Elena bursts out laughing.
“And they have stripper names!”
“I think I might have the perfect one,” Sage says. “Given how incredible we all look tonight, how about the Snack Pack?”
“I love it, that is the one,” Jules says. Elena and I nod in agreement, and we all raise our glasses to it.
“See, this is the benefit of doing things with women because you know shit is going to get done,” Elena says.
“Hear, hear!”
Since I'm the one who started the group chat, I take out my phone and change our name. We’re now officially the Snack Pack. It's like the sexier version of the breakfast club.
“We should get water so we’re not drinking straight alcohol all night,” Elena says, as she downs another shot.
“And maybe something to eat,” Sage adds.
“The server looks like she’s busy. I’ll order something at the bar,” I say. “I have to pee anyway.”
“I’ll come with,” Jules says.
Jules hooks her arm through mine as we walk to the bar. This place is full, maybe even over capacity, and it’s seriously all women. The only man is the bartender and he’s popular.
“He’s cute.” Jules coos. “You think I can do a bartender?”
I examine him as we wait for our turn in line. He’s dressed in all black, tattoos on his arms, an eyebrow piercing. He’s obviously very flirty and the girls ordering ahead of us are giggling as they lean over the counter.
“Honestly, I always pictured you with a lit professor or something,” I say.
“Ooh, an older man?” Jules bites her lip. “I like. Does he look like Silas Cross?”
“Seriously?” I laugh.
Jules wiggles her eyebrows. “Coach is hot. His only flaw is hockey.”
She’s not wrong. Coach is hot, with his sparkling brown eyes and dark hair that has a hint of gray in it now. There was a time when I wanted to marry him and if it wasn’t him, no one else would do. It went downhill from there. Until now.
“I bet he talks you through it,” Jules muses.
I shift on my feet, my cheeks burning slightly. It’s hot in here, that’s the only reason I’m burning up. It’s not because I’m picturing Roman’s hands on my waist, his chest pressed against my back as he tells me how good I’m taking his cock, and we were going to take it nice and slow. My eyes meet Jules’s before I look away again, not before I see the widest smile across her lips.
“I don’t know why I expected anything else.”
We’re thankfully next and as we step up to the counter, the bartender smiles at Jules, giving her a once over. But when his eyes move to me, his smile drops and he straightens, clearing his throat.
“Let me…get someone else to help you.” He’s gone before either Jules, or I can say anything.
