I gape at her because I’m sure I heard her wrong. “Are you serious?”
“That’s exactly what happened. I guess it means that we weren’t meant to be,” she shrugs her shoulders before organizing the glasses.
“That’s for sure. Someone who treats you like that doesn’t deserve you, Soph.”
She turns around, and her eyes flash with something once again before she schools her expression. It wasn’t the first time I noticed that reaction tonight. Maybe talking about breakups is tough for her. Her wounds must still be fresh.
It’s like I’m skipping songs on shuffle as I keep changing the topic of discussion. “So, Soph, what kind of music do you like? Was that the go-to set you performed earlier?”
She laughs as she cuts lemons behind the bar. “Why the sudden change in the subject? Don’t get me wrong, I could talk about music all night long, but I was just wondering. You keep doing that a lot.”
I knew she would catch that. “I’m getting sick and tired of thinking about all my failed relationships and exes. They were all at least one fry short of a Happy Meal, anyway. Tiffany, my latest ex, for example, has more issues than Vogue.”
Soph stops what she’s doing and peers at me with amusement in her eyes. “Did you just tell me that your exes are messed up without using the words? Very classy, Jax, very classy. And here I thought you had some dignity left.”
“No, you must have imagined things. I said no such thing,” I respond, putting my hand over my heart, face portraying innocence. Her expression sobers, and she moves away from me, placing the lemon wedges in the fridge before wiping the flavored syrup bottles next to the coffee maker.
I don’t get it. Like the bar name, she’s warm one moment and cool the next. I can’t read her. Like at all. That would explain why I pick the wrong ones. My love life is like the love child of a train wreck and a dumpster fire—a total mess without me even trying too hard.
“Soph, are you okay?”
“I’ve had a long night, and my shift isn't over yet.”
“Well, that sounds awesome, as I want to getshot-faced. It would be even better if you could be shot-faced with me.”
Soph snorts at my lousy attempt at making a joke. “Shot-faced?”
“Yeah, like shitfaced but with shots.”
“I figured out as much. But it sounds dumb, even for you.”
I chuckle. “You know I’m not an idiot, just a fool with awful taste in women. So please, help me and get me shot-faced.”
She must like my reply because she smiles again. “Okay, okay, one or two more shots can’t hurt when you’re nursing a broken heart or ego. What would you like?”
“Anything with a high level of alcohol will do. Thanks, Soph.”
“Another vodka shot coming up. Need a chaser?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a craft beer like the one I had earlier.”
This seems like the beginning of a great night.
Oh, how fucking wrong I am.
5
SOPH
Currently playing: Revenge by P!nk ft. Eminem
“Here’s another beer for you.”
“Thanks, Soph.”
He lets my name linger and winks once again. A fucking wink. I know he’s newly single, but that isn’t a good enough reason for him to flirt with me. Ugh, no thanks. Hard pass. I won’t fall for his charm twice. Not after what he did the last time.
“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else,” I tell him as I walk to the end of the bar to pick up more empty glasses. My colleague, Arlo, sees me rolling my eyes and coughs to hide his laughter. I give him mydon’t you startlook.
