I opened my mouth and snapped it shut. “Huh.”
“Boom! Wisdom.”
“Okay, you ruined it a little.”
She laughed. At the bar, Dex also laughed at something the tattooed man said, and my stomach dropped so violently, I gasped. The music drowned out the sound, but Phoebe glanced at me, brow furrowing.
“Wow,” I said. “Dex is getting hit on at the bar and I think he’s into it.”
Phoebe stretched up in her seat to get a better view. Arden said, “Oh my god. It’s like he’s human or something.”
I swallowed, unable to tear my eyes from the bar. The bartender set our drinks in front of Dex, who remained focused on the tattooed dude, his expression content for the first time since I knocked on his door an hour ago.
“I should go,” I said. Arden replied in less than a beat.
“What’s wrong?”
“What? Nothing. I’m at a gay bar in Chicago. How could anything be wrong?”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing when you’re sad but you don’t want anyone to know you’re sad, so you overcompensate with enthusiasm.”
I cleared my throat. “Oh, you know what? I think the bar is going through a tunnel.”
“Violet!”
I made an obnoxious crackling sound and hung up, marginally cheered by Phoebe laughing through her nose. I’d pay for hanging up on Arden, but for now, I needed to avoid the third degree.
Diverting my focus from the bar, I watched Phoebe scan the vicinity for the tenth time since we arrived. The place itself was cool, lots of exposed brick and timber with bright accents in the lights and artwork. It seemed to balance on a tightrope between bar and nightclub, definitely the kind of place I would’ve frequented in college, or even today if I was both single and looking for Something. A partner, good times, a break.
I stole another glance at the bar just in time to see a bartender emerge from the back and unleash a scream that had everyone in the vicinity whipping around as she flew over to Dex and threw her arms around him.
“Wow,” Phoebe said. “So he’s, like,knownhere.”
I’d realized this earlier, when the bouncer recognized Dex and allowed us immediate entry. I’d made several attempts to interrogate him, but he changed the subject or excused himself from the table each time. Now, he was caught in a hug with a hot lesbian bartender, and he clutched her like she was so much more than that.
What was up with this guy? My mind’s version of him morphed into something new each time his vault of secrets cracked open: perpetually angry asshole with a sketchy job; the guy who follows you to an orgy and laughs until he cries in the elevator; beloved former patron of a Chicago gay bar. I couldn’t keep up.
“Hey.” Phoebe shoved my arm and jerked her chin at Dex. “Go see what that’s about.”
“No,” I said, scowling. She scowled right back.
“Why?”
“I’m not leaving you alone in a bar.” Laughter drifted over from across the room and I recognized the rusty creak of Dex’s. I slumped in my seat, folding my arms tight. “And it’s none of my business.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?” she replied. “You can’t not be curious. Dex is like a hero here.”
“He is not,” I said, just as someone burst through the doors with a loud whoop, heading straight for the growing group at the bar. “What the hell?”
“This is crazy,” Phoebe said. “It’s almost like Dex used to be fun.”
A surprising stab of protectiveness erupted in my chest. “Dex is fun.”
“In an unfun way, sure. Maybe he went to college here or something. Did he go to college, do you think?”
