Seriously, is thereanywhereon this goddamn Earth where being sweet and considerate is appreciated? I know I’m not supposed to be focused on relationships, but it’s starting to hurt.
Did I miss my chance at happiness when I turned down Caroline? Maybe that was the universe finally giving me my person.
“Or was it your brother who got on his knees?” Rooney muses out loud. “Either way, they got their happy ending.”
“Now I’m worried about which happy ending you’re referring to.”
“Only the fun kind.”
“I think both ways are the fun kind.”
He looks like a guy used to smiling as he checks me out. “Are you straight? Or do you take after your brother?”
“Bi.” Or … wait. Maybe my forever person is Rooney? I don’t feel any type of way toward him, but who can say? “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re hot. Duh.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” My face is heating. “That’s really?—”
Ziggy slams his hand down on the bar between us with an echoingthwack.
My rambling cuts off, and when I glance over, his face is twisted in anger. Even under his loose bangs, I can make out the way his pierced eyebrows are pulled down sharply.
“Shit, Ziggy, were we leaving you out?” Rooney asks lightly, reaching over to pat him on the back.
Ziggy slaps his hand away, but guilt is sinking through me. Wewereleaving him out. Fuck. I didn’t even notice I was doing it. I’m so used to being around my brothers or our friends, people who’ll talk over the top of each other and never shy away from having themselves heard.
Ziggy isn’t like that.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him as convincingly as I can. “That was really rude.”
He still looks mad—along with something else—but when his gaze drops toward the floor, some of the tension leaves his features.
“It’s my fault,” Rooney says, eyeing Ziggy curiously. “I get excited meeting new people.”
“Me too,” I admit.
Ziggy passes him and joins me around the other side of the bar, then grabs my Coke and pulls me toward a table by the window. He sets my drink down and points to the chair behind it, and I’m so confused about whether he forgives me or if he’s putting me in the naughty corner. I sit slowly, trying to read his face, and it’s not until he takes the seat beside me and lets the annoyance slide from his features that I relax again.
Ziggy sighs, turning back to Rooney, and points at the chair across the table from us.
“Be right over,” Rooney calls, not sounding at all like he’s going to curl over from the guilt. Me, on the other hand? I feel bad for squishing bugs, so upsetting Ziggy is going to sit with me.
I drop my voice so only he can hear me. “I really am sorry.”
It takes him a moment before he looks at me, his searching gaze wary, and slowly, the irritation is replaced by something else. His lips pull out into a sad, flat smile. Is that supposed to be forgiveness? Or resignation?
“Nope, don’t do that.” Surprise lights up his eyes, and he cocks his head to the side. Is he challenging me? Or … asking me to keep talking? “Don’t pretend you’re okay. I feel bad, and I should.” Taking a chance, I reach out and run my fingers along his arm, wanting to build that connection we had earlier but scared I’ll spook him. “I want to know you better, and that includes the things that annoy you.”
He’s watching me, unresponsive, and slowly, it feels like I’m getting through to him. That he’s hearing the truth behind the words I’m speaking.
The guardedness seeps away.
It shouldn’t feel so good to see him relax again, but I wasn’t lying when I said that I felt bad. In the short time since meeting him, the moments we spend together only leave me eager to know more.
Know everything.
Now, I’ve catalogued one more thing about him.
