The club parties were good. They had beer, music, pool tables, and bonfires. Nobody gave a shit if you danced or sat in the corner all night.
I liked the guys, and I normally liked the women.
But now Josie…
I stared at the phone, then immediately shook my head. Bad idea.
Way too soon.
I typed anyway. Can I bring someone?
Three dots appeared instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. What the fuck?
I smirked. That a yes?
Who are you and what have you done with Rome? You never bring people.
Fair enough.I normally didn’t.
I leaned against the counter and looked at the stained-glass window by the staircase, which threw patches of blue and red across the hardwood floor.
I looked at the phone again.
I typed. Can I or not?
The reply came. Yeah. Then another. I know her?
I barked out a laugh. Mind your business.
Holy shit. Chick must be legit. Another text. I’m telling everyone.
Do that and I’ll tattoo a dick on your forehead while you sleep.
Worth it. He replied.
I shook my head and tossed the phone onto the table.
Idiots, every last one of them.
Josie at the clubhouse. I pictured it and I had to admit I liked it. The guys would like her instantly because everyone liked Josie.
I stared at my phone. This was ridiculous.
I was twenty-nine and somehow asking a woman to a party felt more intimidating than opening a tattoo shop at twenty-one.
Pathetic.
I picked up the phone, opened my messages, and scrolled to Josie.
Stared.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Want to go to a club party Saturday?
