“Bashy, get your ass over here for a toast,” Griffin calls from the other side of the room. “And bring your girl.”
My heart clenches at that. Being called his girl was all I wanted as a teenager because it would signify that he’d chosen me. Hearing his friend say it so casually right after Sebastian said he didn’t mean to kiss me—and that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing he clearly doesn’t plan to repeat if he’s worried about torpedoing the friendship we’ve just reestablished—guts me in a way I can’t articulate.
“Come on,” I say, plastering a brittle smile on my face. “We don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“Indie, we need to?—”
“Don’t worry.” I infuse as much levity in my tone as I can. “Our friendship is perfectly safe.”
My heart, not so much. But that’s nothing new.
eighteen
SEBASTIAN
We only havea three-day gap between the playoff series we just won and the next round. Outside of painting a few miniature figurines and hitting up the children’s hospital to spend some time with the kids in the cancer unit, I was hoping to spend those days with Indie, but she’s been avoiding me. She hasn’t answered any of my calls, instead texting me back hours later.
It’s frustrating as hell, because I don’t understand what happened. I kissed her, she seemed to like it, and then she told me it was a mistake.
I scoff.Mistake, my ass.
“Dude, what?” Griffin arches an eyebrow at me from one of the chairs of his rooftop retreat. After two days of me blowing up the group chat with frustrated messages, the guys suggested—okay, demanded—I join them for beers and pizza while the ladies have a girls’ night at Maddox’s place.
So here we are. “I’m not crazy.”
Ryder snickers into his beer bottle before exchanging a look with Logan.
“I’m not. She kissed me back. Like,reallykissed me back. Hell, she practically climbed me like a tree, right? I didn’t imagine that.”
It’s not only Ryder laughing after I say that. Apparently, all four of them are very amused by my growing frustration.
“Yeah, man, I was a little worried she was going to come in front of a room full of people.” Maddox shakes his head, pops the top off another beer, and shoves it into my hands. “So, no, you didn’t imagine it.”
“Thank you,” I say loudly, clinking my new beer against his. It’s my fourth? Fifth? Who knows? All I know is that my usual two-beer limit won’t cut it tonight.
“When’s the last time any of you saw him drunk?” Ryder asks. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk.”
“It’s been at least a few years,” Maddox replies. They’re talking to each other like I’m not here.
It’s annoying.
“Sure. Pretend I’m not even here. Just like Indie. It’s totally fine. I don’t hate it at all.”
Logan snorts, and the assholes spiral into another round of laughter. I’m never the one acting like a fool out of the five of us, and they’re enjoying this a little too much.
“You need to talk to her,” Griffin says. As if I haven’t tried. Many times.
“Oh, is that all I need to do?” I chug half of my new beer before slamming it down on the glass coffee table in front of me. More than a dozen empty bottles clink against each other from the force: a symphony of bad decisions.
“Is this the thing that’s finally going to push responsible, steady Bash over the edge?” Logan says out of the side of his mouth to Maddox.
“Again, still here, assholes.” I finish the bottle and reach for another.
“Sure looks that way,” Griffin replies. “And as fuckin’ hilarious as it is, I also feel bad for our Bashy-cakes.”
“That’s a stupid fucking nickname,” I mutter.
They laugh harder.
