“What the fuck?” August stomps out, green globs dripping down his forehead.
He swipes a finger across his brow, his wide eyes meeting mine as I zoom in on his irritating face and say, “I hate mint fucking chip.”
A startled laugh bursts out of him. “You’re some bastard.”
“Says the guy who put me on a dating app without permission “
“You’re the one who said you wanted to get back out there after?—”
I whip the sprayer from the sink and squirt him right in the face. The girls take off laughing again, and so do the other four people in the bar.
NowAugust looks like he’s going to kill me. “What the fuck, Elliott?”
“Hey, I was just trying to help clean you off.”
“Oh, it’s on. You’d better watch your back. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t even fucking blink. And you two.” He levels his finger at Loren and Meg. “You are both dead to me.” He twists around and stomps back into the office, globs of melted mint chocolate chip ice cream dripping the entire way.
“Waste of perfectly good ice cream if you ask me,” Meg mutters as she saunters past, returning to her gin.
Loren trails behind, swiping her own drink on her way. “Have I told you how amazing you are? I want to be you when I grow up.”
Meg is amazing. And as a thank you, I think they could both use another drink. I throw some ice in two fish-bowl glasses, pour in a little extra gin, and add a little less tonic.
Meg drains what’s left in her glass, then slides the thing over to me. “What can I say? I have a gift.”
“And for using your ‘gift’ for evil, both of you drink for free tonight.” I add two lime wedges and set them right in front of my new favorite women.
Meg accepts hers with a “thanks,” but Loren stares down at her glass like I might have poisoned the thing. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble with the manager.”
Manager? I mean, it’s sweet of her to worry, but doesn’t she know? “Chaos, I own the place.”
CHAPTER 35
LOREN
Internet Paul
Does tomorrow at eight work for you?
When I walkinto the living room, Elliott glances up from the bowl of chili he’s shoveling into his mouth.
“Where are you off to?” he asks around the spoon.
“I have a date.” As soon as I get this damn earring through my ear, I’ll be leaving.
Men have it so easy. Take Elliott, for example. Should I wear this black T-shirt or that one? So annoying.
“What’s his name?”
“You don’t know him.” I’ve been chatting with a few guys online but didn’t really feel like meeting up with any of them. Enter: Paul, twenty-six, from Murfreesboro.
“How can you be so sure? I know lots of people.”
Elliott seems like the kind of guy to claim he knows someone just to mess with me. I mean, he did go through with this big, elaborate plan to humiliate his cousin.
A grin stretches across his too-handsome face, and his spoon clinks against the edge of the bowl when he sets it on thecounter. “It’s Meg, isn’t it? There’s no need to be embarrassed, Loren. I think it’s great that you and your friend hang out so much.”
Says the man whose only friend seems to be his cousin.
