“Annoying? I’m just looking out for you.”
“By scaring off potential suitors?” Aubrey smirks around her straw.
Wes points a finger at her, then looks at me for help. I shrug and tighten my hold on my girl, inhaling the scent of her shimmering body lotion.
Left stranded, he reluctantly relents. “Fine. But when Mr. Fucks A Lot breaks your heart, don’t come crying to me. I’ll change my locks so you can’t get into my house to cry in my arms.”
“You’re such a shitty liar. We all know you’ll want to hear her sayyou were righttoo much for that,” Jett calls him out.
I sit back and watch Beck puff out his chest. “And I don’t fuck a lot.”
“Yeah, don’t you know that he’s too busy stalking a barista for that?” I ask.
Beck immediately glares at me. Aubrey shakes against my chest with a silent laugh.
“I’m also not interested,” Brielle says. Her statement draws all of our eyes. She offers Beck an apologetic look before pulling her pink glass across the table toward her. “Sorry. You’re just not my type.”
“What does that mean?” He almost sounds offended.
She ignores the rest of us when she stares at him, completely nonchalant. “Exactly what it sounds like. I prefer older men.”
“Woah, okay. Since when?” Wes asks, his face paling.
“Don’t look at me like I just told you I wanted to marry some eighty-year-old.”
“Might wanna clarify before he malfunctions, Elle,” Aubrey suggests, resting her head back against my shoulder.
Brielle huffs dramatically while tucking her newly dyed blonde hair behind her ears. “I just mean that I like my men experienced. The kind who know what an RRSP is and that rubbing the outer lip of a vagina like they’re trying to see if a genie will pop out isn’t going to make us come.”
Kellan explodes into laughter while Wes’s face twists in disgust. I glance up at the ceiling then and hear Aubrey choke on her cocktail.
“Have a lot of experience with furious rubbers, do you, Elle? It makes sense now why you turned down Beck,” Kellan drawls.
The Havoc’s star closer grunts in offense. “Why am I catching a stray? I know where the clit is, dumbass.”
“Okay, maybe we should move on to a different topic before Wes’ head explodes,” Jett suggests.
“I agree.” Wes sits back in the booth and takes a swig of his Jack and Coke.
“Hey, look, it’s Asher!” Beck announces, desperate to avoid further embarrassment. He steps down from the booth to round the table.
I’m grateful for the distraction, even if he is late. Aubrey snaps her head to the side in search of her friend, and I loosen my hold on her.
Shaking out his wet hair, Asher moves through the empty tables toward us. Beck greets him with an awkward handshake and back slap.
“Hey, man,” Wes mutters, still pale.
Brielle gives Asher a brief look, taking in his wet hoodie and hair. “It’s still raining?”
“It isn’t supposed to stop until tomorrow,” I answer.
Asher ignores the weather talk and looks at Aubrey, forcing the corner of his mouth up into a small smile. “Congratulations, Aubrey.”
“Thank you, Ash.”
“No worries.”
He shifts awkwardly before I wave to the empty seat beside Brielle at the end of the table. He catches my motion and sits. The two women stare at him for a beat longer, like they’re trying to see if they can get a glimpse into his head, but eventually, they give up.
