I lean into her. “I can't help it. People are staring, and I hate it when people are staring.”
The lightest laugh comes from her lips.
“Well, that's funny coming from a man who did so many things to draw attention to himself in his senior year.”
“Well, I'm not the same kid I was back then. I'm a man now.”
“I'm a man now,” she mimics me and then waves as Hudson, one of my good buddies, approaches us. Hudson is also married to Sadie, one of Brooke’s best friends.
“Yeah.” Hudson scratches the back of his neck. “I'm not really sure what to ask right here. So how about I just see what the two of you would like to drink.”
“The usual,” I say and then glance at Brooke. I have no idea what her usual would be. And a friend would know this.
“I'll have a Tito's and soda, please.”
She would. Such a dainty drink. But it fits her. I like it.
Despite the music playing and the chatter of all the other patrons, an awkward silence floats between not just Brooke and me, but between the two of us and Hudson as he mixes our drinks together.
Should I ask her a question?
What do I do?
This is a supposed test run of how people are going to act when they see us in public, but I'm not so sure we are prepared enough for this.
I make eye contact with Hudson as he sets our drinks down, and I know he has a list full of questions. But he doesn't ask them right at this moment. Instead, he leaves Brooke and I to ourselves. I take a sip, and then clear my throat.
“So, how was your day?” I ask, and the vodka Brooke just sipped sprays out in front of her.
She covers her mouth and looks at me with wide panicked eyes. Then she bursts into laughter.
“That's how you want to start this?”
“Well, fuck, Brooke. Is that not how friends would go about their evening together when they get to the bar?”
“Well, I mean, usually with the girls, we have some sort of gossip, I guess you would call it, to talk about. Or an update of things going on in our lives, but considering you and I have neither of those things, sure, okay. How was your day?”
I raise my left brow as I stare at her. “I asked you first.”
“Oh, it's like that. Okay, sure. I spent half of my day completing forms to hopefully save my financial identity in the future from somebody else who decides they want to steal it and take all my hopes and dreams with them. The other half I spent at the bakery, pretending I couldn’t see the stares of locals waiting for me to spill the beans on the town's latest. Ergo, youand me and this newfound friendship.” She takes down two gulps of her drink and then looks at me. “Your turn.”
Shit, that explains a lot about why she needs money. I want to ask more, but asking about her personal life leads to her asking more about mine, and we both know that—or at least I know—I'm not ready to divulge much information quite yet.
“My day was normal. I woke up, worked out, ate some breakfast, went to work, had some lunch, and then worked some more. Now I'm here.
“Ooh, that sounds like an amazing day. Bet you can't wait to own that place.”
“Are you always this sarcastic, or is all that sass reserved for me?”
She grins. “It’s fifty-fifty."
I shake my head and take another drink from my beer. Despite my better judgment, I say, “So I take it this stolen identity issue is why you’re helping me.”
“Helping myself? Yes.”
Noted. She refuses to act as if she’s doing me a favor. I guess it doesn’t really matter how she sees it, as long as she’s helping. Which brings me back to the other part of her day.
“When I texted you, you said everything at the bakery was fine.”
