What the hellis Josh doing here? He never comes to the east side with the “hippies and shit.” His words, not mine.
I don’t want to be in the same state as that jerkwad, let alone the same room. Just looking at his face makes me want to puke. I need to leave. Now. But as I scan the bar for Meg, she’s nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have left without me. We have a strict rule that if we want to go home with someone, we make sure to tell the other person first and get photographic evidence of the stranger so that he can be identified should one of us become a missing person.
She’s probably on the dance floor with “Timmy,” but I’m not going to stand up to look for her in case Josh sees me.
What is he doing here, anyway? This hole-in-the-wall is the type of bar Mr. Fancy-Pants would never dream of setting foot in.
Then again, maybe I’m wrong. It’s pretty damn obvious that I never knew him as well as I thought I did.
I grab my phone like a lifeline, opening my text thread with Elliott where he has sent a picture of nipple tassels.
Nope.
He texts right back.
Having a good night?
I was until dickwad showed up
All the way in East Nashville?
That’s suspicious
Tell me about it
Hold on. I never told Elliott where we were either.
How do you know where we are?
Def not from stalking IG
I didn’t post anything online. I open the app. Sure enough, Meg shared the pic we took outside the bar. Is Elliott following Meg?
Is that why Josh is here?
No. That’s crazy. He hasn’t tried to contact me in weeks. This is probably some terrible coincidence.
As if by magic, a bulbous glass appears in front of me. I glance up to find the bartender who served us earlier smiling down at me. Man, her eyeliner is on point. I wish I could do my makeup like that.
I return her smile as best I can as I slide the drink back across the bar. “I didn’t order this.”
She nods her pierced chin toward where Josh has found an empty stool at the end of the bar. Did that hurt? The piercing, not the nodding. “It’s from your secret admirer,” she says.
Would you look at that? Ratbag bought me a drink. I make a big production of handing it right back. I don’t care if it’s free. I would rather lick the floor than accept anything from him.
“You can tell my ex that he can drown in it.”
The woman glances over at Josh, her eyes narrowing. “Done and done.”
My pulse roars in my ears as I scowl down at my phone.
You thirsty?
I text Elliott a photo of my half-empty glass.
The read receipt comes straight through, and three dots pop up. But then they disappear just as quickly, and I end up waiting way too long for a reply that never comes.
Why did I agree to this again? Oh, yeah. Meg. My best friend who is currently making out with Timmy by the DJ booth.
