“Ellie Miles?”
We both turned. A guy stood there, probably in his late twenties, cute-ish, in a very LA way. Designer sneakers. Sculpted facial hair. Eyes just drunk enough to be brave.
“Uh, yeah,” I slurred, trying to sound cooler than I felt. “That’s me.”
He grinned. “I’m Jake. Big fan. I know, random. But hey, figured I’d shoot my shot. I mean, how often do you run into Ellie Miles?”
“Often, really,” Rachel said.
He laughed. “So what’s a superstar like you doing in a dive like this?”
“You know I have a boyfriend, right?”
“Doesn’t bother me,” Jake said, his eyes twinkling.
Rachel narrowed her eyes and typed on my phone again. “Well, it should, Jake.”
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“Oh, just texting your boyfriend about how this Jake dude is hitting on you.”
I snatched my phone from her.
Oh yeah? :)
Mhm, now some guy named Jake is trying to hit on me and you aren’t here to save me :(
“Are you fucking insane?” I asked.
Rachel kicked her feet up, triumphant. “God, I hope he shows up. I want to witness that man’s jealousy in real time.”
Jake was still standing there, just…watching.
“You’re dismissed,” Rachel told him sweetly. “Thanks for playing.”
He blinked. “Seriously?”
“She’s in love, Jake,” Rachel said with faux sadness. “You never stood a chance.”
He muttered something and walked away. I slumped back into the booth, half-drunk, half-dead inside.
Rachel raised her glass with a grin. “To bad decisions, unresolved sexual tension, and your future as Mrs. Sawyer James.”
I clinked mine against hers. “To blackout-level mistakes!”
“Cheers, bitch.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Sawyer
Mhm. And now some guy named Jake is trying to hit on me and you aren’t here to save me :(
Where are you?
Sorry, Rachel stole my phone. That wasn’t me.
Ellie. Where are you?
