I raise my chin and smirk. “Aw, you are jealous.”
“Don’t worry, Baylor. I like to share.” Luke flashes Baylor a devilish grin.
Jesse pats him on the back as we head through the double-door entrance. “Yeah, man. Take your pick. I’m not greedy.”
Henry laughs at the way my face scrunches in disgust.
“I can’t believe you associate with these guys.”
“We’re all cut from the same cloth, I suppose.” He ruffles the top of my hair.
I quickly pat it back down and glare at him. “Yeah? Then, how come you’re not meeting some girl here and passing her around to all your friends?”
He leans on the bar on his elbows and gestures to the bartender at the other end. “Because I’m here with you.”
I roll my eyes. He knows that doesn’t count.
“And besides,” he adds, “I prefer a bit more exclusivity with the women I share a bed with.”
Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Henry take anyone home after a night we spent out together. I’ve stopped by his apartment a handful of times before class and gotten to meet his late-night endeavors before they left, but that’s it. Henry is very private about that part of his life. Not just with his guy friends, but with me too.
The bartender appears before I can dwell on that thought.
“What can I get you both?”
“Hey there. Can I get a bottle of Pappy and some glasses to that table in the corner, please?” He points to the green velvet booth, where Baylor, Jesse, and Luke are sitting down.
The man’s brows rise a fraction at Henry’s request. Henry has always been a guy with expensive taste, especially his liquor, so I’m not surprised at the bartender’s reaction to a college student ordering what I imagine to be a very pricey bottle.
Henry slides him a card from his wallet.
“Right away, sir.”
Henry nods at the man with appreciation and then tilts his head down at me. “What would you like, Aspen? I know you hate bourbon.”
“Uh, cranberry vodka, I guess.” I shrug.
“Do you have a preference of vodka, miss?” the bartender asks.
I stare blankly at the glass bottles behind the bar. Some of the fancy ones without labels make me question if the bartender mixes drinks or science experiments.
“Goose is fine, right, Pen?” Henry answers for me.
“Sure.” I offer him a smile while the man in the white button-up and plaid vest gets started on our order.
“So, tell me more about this guy you met today,” Henry says, leading me to the table.
“I didn’t get a chance to really get to know him before he had to go back to work. But he seems sweet.”
“Sweet, huh?” A small dimple appears on his cheek. “You always go for the nice guys.”
“Would you rather I go out with the bad guys then?” I smirk.
“Not at all. You just seem to get bored of the nice ones. I think it’d be good for you to find someone who challenges you. And not so—”
“Boring?” I laugh.
He has a point. I don’t have a great track record with holding on to the few guys I’ve dated in college. In my defense, the only men I surround myself with when I go out are Henry and his friends, and that doesn’t exactly elicit a lot of courageous men willing to ask if I belong to one of them or not. I think most guys just assume I’m taken or they don’t want to date someone who is only friends with guys.
