“Why thank you.” I shot him a smile, still keeping an eye on his mouth's movement to catch any gag reflexes though I was grateful to have someone to talk to. “If I start to bore you, feel free to go hang out with other people.”
Trip rolled his eyes and pressed the bottle to his mouth for a long drink. “Whatever you say, baby.” He smirked. "You likin' the new job?"
Not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to lie, I shrugged a shoulder. "It's coming along, but I'm still looking for another one."
He leaned toward me. His face serious. "Dex bein' a dick?"
I didn't mean to do it but the laugh just kind of burst out of my chest. Wasn't Dex the first person Blake thought of when he saw someone had upset me? That shouldhave been a sign of what I was getting myself into. If Trip immediately guessed, I could only imagine what that guy must have done to earn a reputation of pissing people off.
"Why you laughin'? I'm right, aren't I?" Trip grinned.
I had a record for putting my foot in my mouth so I shrugged instead, still laughing just a little bit.
It was Trip's turn to shrug. "He's as moody as can fuckin' be, baby. Always got somethin' up his ass."
So, so true. But I wouldn't admit it outright like that. They were friends, after all. It would be like me hearing someone call Lanie a bitch. I could call her a bitch but no one else could. "He definitely had something living up there a few days ago."
Blonde brows rose. "Was it his dad’s shit?"
"I have no idea." But I wondered for all of a second whathad been the cause.Then I realized I didn't givecare because it didn’t matter. A dick is a dick.
"You tell me if he's givin' you a hard time," Trip said. "I'll beat the dumbfuck out of him." His blue eyes flicked to theside. “He’s got so much in him, it’ll take a while.”
Something really reassuring settled in my chest at his offer. I couldn't help but nod and pat his arm. "Sonny called his kneecaps, you can have the rest of him."
He chuckled. His eyes had drifted down to where my hand rested on his forearm, his gaze sliding up and over my elbow, stopping on my bicep. My sleeve had rode up my arm at some point. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand clench open and close. His baby blue eyes flicked up to mine, his expression confused and curious.
Trip's lips parted for a moment before closing. Once, twice, three times.
I'd done this enough times to know what he wanted. Where his confusion stemmed from. Extending my arm out so he could take a better look at the scarring, he winced and instinctively reached out to touch it. It wasn't a good-looking scar. The flesh looked gnarled and silver-white against my healthy skin. After four different surgeries, I'd stopped caring what it looked like. Seeing it in the mirror didn't bother me anymore but I hated the looks I'd get from people.
Like I was broken.
Like there was something wrong with me.
I lost the name my mom had so carefully chosen and became a medical term.
A hand came down to smack Trip's fingers away. "What the hell are you doing?" Sonny asked, pushing himself between our two stools, his amber eyes going back and forth between Trip and I.
Trip didn't even seem bothered by Sonny's reaction. The look on his face was a little relaxed and a little more confused. "Hangin' out," he answered vaguely, keeping hisgazeon Sonny.
Sonny narrowed his light colored eyes at his friend before turning his attention to me and pulling down my shirt sleeve as if it were a second thought. There were times when I'd catch him looking at my arm with an expression of pure, painful remorse. Like it'd been his fault that I'd gotten sick. Or maybe it hurt him to see it. I didn't know and I wouldn't ask. If I didn’t make a big deal out of it—AKA pretend there was nothing different—no one else would either.
"Ris, I'm going out for a minute with a friend," he whispered into my ear, putting both hands on my shoulders and squeezing.
A minute? Ha.
I tilted my gaze up to look at him over my shoulder. There was a pretty brunette standing just behind him, a possessive hand clasped on his arm. Interesting. "Okay. Is it fine if I go home or do you want me to hang out here awhile?"
He smirked and squeezed his grip. "You can go home. I'll be there later." The gross ass smirked again. "Way later."
I faked a shudder.
With more pressure to my shoulder, I saw him reach out to slap Trip on the back. He gave him a hard look that I didn't understand before disappearing into the crowd behind us.
Awoman squeal loudly to my right and I found Luther leaning against a high countertop table with a young—probably around my age—girl tucked on his lap.
Gross.
