He had my location. Still, it was best to be thorough.
I freshened up, applied a tinted chapstick, and changed into a non-work hoodie. Such a transformation. Would he even recognize me?
I rolled my eyes and made my way to the bar.
The same boxy bouncer from last time checked my ID.
My cheeks flexed in a mild smile. Maybe that would convince him the girl in the photograph was me.
“Go ahead,” he barked, handing the ID back.
I scurried inside, heading straight to where they were last time.
Sal’s arm shot up over a small crowd. “Zero, you made it,” he cheered.
My toes tingled, so I dragged my feet to greet him. “How’re you holding up?”
“I need sleep.” He extended his arms to me, then stopped himself short, his beer sloshing. “Wait, no hugs. You want a drink? Next time, I can get an Arnold Palmer for you.”
“That’s okay, I’m not sure–”
“Salvatore, your future wife is waiting,” a silver-haired young man sing-songed at him.
The girls beside him giggled.
My heart clenched. “You're not trying to date so soon after—”
“No. But my friend has different priorities.” He sighed. “He says the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
Wait, did that mean he was open to a rebound? I furrowed my brow, my mouth open and my brain whirring. Was Sal into casual sex? I thought his relationships were real…or something like that.
He shrugged, his gaze wobbling with lack of focus. “I know, I wouldn’t want to mess up my friendship with Janice by hooking up with someone the day after our breakup. But I–”
“Sal,” the silver-haired guy called, sidling up to us. “Excuse me, honey, I’ve come to collect him. You’re welcome to join us.”
I didn’t have much of a choice. He tucked Sal under his shoulder and led him to the girls, leaving me to follow in their wake.
They formed a semi-circle, leaving just enough space for me to lurk between Sal and a random girl’s elbow.
The silver-haired guy flashed them a killer smile, his hand over Sal’s heart. “This is my man, Sal. Served him dinner last night. His ex waited until she got her present to dump him.”
“That’s so sad,” one girl cooed,
“What a bitch,” the other said.
Sal straightened his spine. “No, she’s not.”
Silver-fox slapped his chest. “He’s also a feminist.”
I snorted laughter. That should be the bare minimum for romantic interests.
Everyone eyed me with varying levels of annoyance and alarm.
Sal squirmed, his eyes glazed and tone lost. “Am I not?”
