Way too sober for original love songs, that was for damn sure. Which meant I was gonna have to wing it.
I scanned the bar area when I first got inside and found the place waspacked. But John’s height and bulk made it pretty hard for him to hide, and he definitely wasn’t there.
“Nicki,” I called, lifting a hand in greeting to the small, dark-haired woman behind the bar.
She gave me a small return smile, then tilted her chin toward the dance floor with an unhappy look.
I turned my head and sure enough, John—myJohn—was part of the throng of people packing the small space. Under the flashing strobe lights, his dark hair shone, and he moved with a kind of unself-conscious grace he usually only had when he’d been drinking.
The guy he was with…ugh. Hewascute. He was tall—well, taller than me—and younger than either of us, with a smile I could tell from a distance was playful and sweet. His hair was golden brown and incredibly messy, like he—or maybemy John—had been running his fingers through it. They looked… really good together.
My throat went dry, and as I stood on the edge of the dance floor and watched them moving together in perfect rhythm, I had a moment of overwhelming self-doubt.
Maybe this guy was good for John. Maybe Mr. Cute-and-Playful was less of a drama queen than me, less inclined to turn to John when he was just trying to enjoy his Tuesday tacos and present him with annoying conundrums like, “Okay, pick one, Johnny, world peaceora cure for cancer…” Less likely to cry while watching Netflix or attach sentimental value to his sofa.
And, heck, John had never shown any romantic interest in me. Maybe Monica had been wrong. Maybe he wasn’t here because he’d misunderstood my intentions with Other-John. Maybe he’d come out to meet this guy and had stood me up on purpose.
He certainly didn’t seem to be thinking of me at the moment.
As I hesitated, a man came up and stood beside me. Like me, he didn’t seem eager to join the throng.
He gazed down at me and said abruptly, “That bearded guy. You know him?”
I nodded miserably. “That’s my best friend, John.”
He grunted in acknowledgement, and I noticed that he was watching, too. Specifically, he was watching the man in John’s arms.
“You knowthatguy? The one with the…” I made a tornado-like motion at the front of my head.
The man nodded slowly.
“Is heyourbest friend?” I asked hopefully.
He snorted in surprise. “Goodman? Fuck no. He’s my…” He paused for a second and gave the Goodman person a look that was a little impatient and a whole lotlonging. “Something.”
I nodded. “They seem happy,” I volunteered a moment later. It came out sounding like an accusation.
“Goodman seems drunk off his ass,” the man replied. He glanced down at me again. “I’m Knox, by the way.”
“Teagan.” I pushed my hair back indecisively. “Well…”
“Teagan, I have an idea,” the man said suddenly. “Would you like to dance?”
Anything seemed better than standing there overthinking, so I let him lead me out on the floor. But when we got close to where John and… Goodman, or whatever his name was…were dancing, and I saw just exactly how fuckingclosethey were dancing, I kind of lost my mind. I stalked right up to them.
“You must be John’s roommate, Teagan!” the Goodman person said, all gross cheerfulness and smiles.
Overly enthusiastic people weresoannoying.
“Yeah,” I said witheringly, trying to peer over his shoulder at my best friend, who’d plastered himself to this stranger’s back. “John, are you?—?”
“Teagan! Hey! Didn’t see you there!” John straightened up and leaned against the guy’s side affectionately. “This is Gay.”
Gay?
“Gage,” the Goodman person corrected.
“Are you sure?” John asked.
