by J. M. Paul
I release an exasperated rush of air, and he chuckles.
“Never mind.” I shake my head and look anywhere but at him.
“No, no, no. I’m sorry.” He stands tall and waves his arms toward himself. “Okay, okay. Ask me again.”
“Connor …” I groan.
If he’s going to be this difficult, maybe I don’t want to go out with him after all. I’m an independent twenty-two-year-old woman, and unlike most girls my age, I don’t need male companionship to feel complete.
Connor bends closer and waits until I finally meet his gaze. A genuine smile lifts the corner of his lips, and his jade eyes turn soft.
“I would love to get coffee with you. I’m pretty sure I’d love to do just about anything you want,” he whispers loud enough so that I can hear him over the music and laughter vibrating around us.
When I answer his grin with my own, we stay lost in that moment for several seconds, staring at each other, until an excited squeal interrupts us, and a body crashes into mine.
“You came!” a singsong voice says as arms wrap around me and squeeze.
“Of course I came. I told you I would, CC.”
I turn my head toward the intruder but not before I notice Connor stand, lift his turkey hat to run his hand through his dark hair, and then place the stuffed butterball back onto his noggin. His eyes bounce between the newcomer and me in disbelief.
Strange.
Cami Camden—I call her CC—my best friend since fourth grade, wiggles me back and forth and beams in my direction. Her blue eyes sparkle, and her red hair is so shiny, I think it’s blinding me.
The whore doesn’t have to do anything for her beautiful strands; it’s all natural. I have to bathe my lady locks in mayonnaise for days, and my head still ends up looking like a frizzed-out bird’s nest half of the time.
“Have you been waiting long?” Cami sits on the stool next to me.
“Long enough.” I shrug and then look at Connor.
He’s still watching us with a blank face. I scrunch my forehead in question, but I don’t get a reaction from him.
“Oh, hey! You two have already met!” Cami beams at Connor and then me.
“Uh, yeah?” There’s a question in my tone, but then it dawns on me that she performs here semi-regularly, so of course she knows the staff.
Cami’s a talented musician—she plays acoustic guitar and sings—and does solo gigs at local bars around Michigan’s metro Detroit area. That’s why I’m here—to watch and support her.
“Awesome.” Cami stands on the bar’s footrest and tilts toward Connor, her lips puckered.
Connor’s eyes flash to me, and I know he can read the confusion written on my face because he has the audacity to look sheepish before he gives Cami a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth.
What in the ever-loving hell?
“Mmm. You taste like peppermint.” Cami licks her lips as she plops back down onto the stool.
The silence between the three of us is heavy. Well, it’s weighted between Connor and me. I don’t think Cami has a clue that she interrupted something between me and him when she arrived.
“Connor, this is my bestie, Noel North. Noel, this is my boyfriend, Connor Vanstone,” Cami says cheerfully.
Boyfriend?
When we look at each other, I know Connor and I are wearing matching horrified expressions.
Shit just got real.
Green with Envy
I gulp down the rest of The Grinch drink and feel my heart shrivel to three sizes too small. Dr. Seuss’s green grouch has nothing on me.
“Boyfriend?” I squeak.
Maybe the Grinch is green with envy.
“Well, we’re not technically dating.” Cami gives Connor a salacious smile.
Barf.
The lighting is low, but I think I see Connor’s cheeks turn pink. His jaw clenches as his eyes bounce around the bar, probably looking for an excuse to escape. I sure as heck would like to disappear.
“Nice to meet you, Connor.” Every word is filled with disdain.
“You, too.” He nudges his chin toward me but won’t look me in the eyes.
I slap the glass down on the bar, and my attention volleys between Cami and Connor. “So, you’re saying you’re fuck buddies?”
Cami’s eyes fly to Connor when he makes an awkward gurgling noise and pounds his fist against his chest once.
I pin him with a glare and motion toward the now-empty cocktail. “I’ll take another.”
Connor sweeps the glass up into his hand and flees.
“I guess that’s what you’d call us.” Cami rests her chin in her hand, completely oblivious to the tension between me and her boy toy.
“Although have you taken a good look at Connor? He’s USDA Prime meat, and I wouldn’t mind buying the cow after I’ve already sampled the milk … if you know what I mean.” She waggles her brows.
Unfortunately, I know exactly what she means, and I find myself growing angrier with Connor. He’s screwing my best friend—whom he didn’t know was my closest girlfriend—and he accepted an invitation to coffee or something with me.
Pig.
“I thought you weren’t limiting yourself to one guy for a while. After you know who …” I let the statement hang because it only upsets Cami when Kyle, her ex-boyfriend, is mentioned.
She sits straight in her stool. “I’m not. We’re just messing around, but”—Cami’s eyes flit over the room—“he’s different, you know? He’s one of the good guys, and I’m not used to that.”
If she knew Connor agreed to go on a coffee date with me only minutes ago, she might have a different opinion of the prick.
Cami picks up a bar napkin and starts to twist and shred it. “I could use someone like him right now, but I’m not sure he’s interested in more.”
“Why’s that?” I’m a horrible person for feeling a small flutter of hope brought on by Cami’s doubt. She’s been my faithful best friend for years, and I literally met Connor minutes ago.
I knew I was going to hell, but after this conversation, I’m sure the current tenants are building a slide for my grand entrance.
“I don’t know.” She pushes the torn pieces of paper into a pile and grabs another napkin. “I mean, we’re having fun, but am I stupid to hope it could possibly turn into something more?”
I want to scream, YES! Walk away now!, but besties don’t do that. They give up their wants for their friend’s desires. I just met Connor, and Cami’s had him long enough to develop feelings for him. She wins.
“Maybe he’s playing hard to get?” I suggest, although I have no clue what I’m talking about.
Except for my minor glitch in asking out Connor, I haven’t taken many dips into the guy pool in the last two years. I’ve learned other things are important.
“Maybe. He’s pretty awesome. Connor could have his pick of the litter, men included.” She eyes me. “What could he want with a girl like me when he could have almost anyone? And have no doubt, the girls are chasing.”
Cami focuses across the bar and slouches in her stool. My gaze follows hers and lands on Connor leaning against the granite, smiling and talking to a group of four girls. They’re beaming and batting their eyes at him, and he’s eating up the attention.
Connor has a larger-than-life personality and effortless charm. Women are probably always drawn to him.
“Screw the other girls.” I turn back to Cami because the display at the end of the bar makes my stomach turn. “If you want Connor for you alone, then ask him. You’re hot, smart, and talented, and if he wants to whore himself out to floozies like that bunch”—I swish my arm toward the display of obnoxiousness occurring at the end of the bar—“then he doesn’t deserve you—or anyone else decent for that matter.”
I rope myself into the last portion of my statement. At least I have enough respect to walk away after finding out my number one gal pal claimed Connor’s leg as her scratching post.
Connor must
feel my death stare because he glances over at me, then Cami, and then at me again. His smile falters, and I pat myself on the back. I lift my hand in a drinking motion and raise my brows.
Taking the hint, he turns to the pawing girls, says something, and knocks against the bar before moving away.
Good boy.
“You’re right,” Cami says.
Of course I am, but about what?
My interaction with Connor made me lose track of the conversation.
“I could ask him to be exclusive, but I’m not ready after what the douche bag did to me. And I kind of get the feeling Connor has commitment issues.” Her eyes wander toward the group of girls Connor was conversing with. They’re talking among themselves now, but each of their attention drifts to and lingers on Connor, who’s making drinks for the wait staff.
“You never know until you try.” I twirl my pen on the bar top. “If you’re just playing, then use him for his willy and boink until you both can’t walk. When you’re done, toss him back into the lake and hook another guppy. There’s no shame in playing the dating game.”
Cami snorts out an unladylike laugh. “Did you really just use the words willy and boink together in a sentence?”
“They’re totally making a comeback, CC. I’m a writer, so I should know,” I say haughtily.
“Whatever.” She shakes her head and then releases a heavy breath. “I have no idea what I want. For now, I’m happy with the way things are with Connor. To hell with serious relationships.”
“Cheers to that, sista.” I knock knuckles with Cami since we don’t have beverages.
“What are we cheersing?” Connor delivers another Grinch cocktail for me and a Stella for Cami.
“Cursing relationships and asshole men.” I take a sip of the green concoction. He made it stronger than the last one.
Smart man.
Connor frowns, and I scowl back.
Cami studies us with her brows scrunched, but her concern melts away when she realizes I have an alcoholic beverage.
“You’re drinking tonight?” She claps her hands.
“Apparently, it’s sacrilegious if you don’t get blitzed the night before Thanksgiving.” I set the glass down and shrug. “Who knew?”
“Uh, just about everyone. Who the hell wants to think about the torture that is forced family time tomorrow?” Cami widens her eyes in mock horror.
“Exactly.” Connor slaps the bar.
I narrow my eyes at him, but his sparkle in return, unaffected.
“It’s about time you joined the party, Noles.” Cami bumps my shoulder and then chugs half of her beer.
I hate that nickname.
“Hey, man.” A tall, built guy pats Connor on the back, and they do some weird boy handshake before bumping shoulders.
“It’s about time you got your ass to work. How’s it going?” Connor asks.
“I’m living the dream,” the new guy says sarcastically.
New Guy’s behind the bar with Connor and also wearing a black Harry’s T-shirt, so I assume he’s another employee.
“If I could get my A-hole of a boss to give me a raise, I’d be living in better style.” New Guy playfully punches Connor in the shoulder.
“Yeah. Good luck with that, bro.” Connor flops two menus onto the bar top between me and Cami.
I’m about halfway into my second drink—possibly starting to see double—and Connor’s a good enough bartender to know I need food.
I give him a sneering smile but flip open the menu to peruse my heavy-on-the-carbs choices.
“You know Cami,” Connor says to New Guy and points to my best friend. “Journal Girl, this is Trey. Trey, this is Journal Girl.”
“Hey, Trey.” Cami winks and sips her beer in a more ladylike manner than she did before.
“Hey.” I give him a small wave and get back to the important task of figuring out what I’m going to devour.
“Journal Girl?” Trey questions, and I feel him studying me.
“Connor’s creativity is astounding. The comedic world had better watch out for this sneaker.” I jerk my chin at Connor and then pat my journal, so Trey understands where the nickname originated.
“My creativity is top-notch, Journal Girl. Don’t deflect your jealousy on me.” Connor flicks the corner of the menu I’m studying.
“The name’s Noel,” I grumble before peering up into his smiling jade eyes.
“Cami, you didn’t tell me you had such hot friends.” Trey playfully shoves Connor out of the way and offers me his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Noel.”
Trey’s cute in a bad boy covered in tattoos sort of way. It’s not normally my thing, but he’s really working it in his favor. He’s tall and brawny, and he has a thick head of blond hair and a strong jaw covered in stubble.
I take Trey’s hand and expect him to shake it once and release me, but instead, he lifts it to his mouth and presses a kiss against my skin. He holds eye contact the entire time, and there’s an adorable smirk on his face.
Connor loudly clears his throat. “I think it’s time you get to work, Trey.”
“Probably.” Trey grazes his lips against my knuckles once more before releasing me. “My boss is a douche and will probably refuse to pay me. But any time spent in the presence of beautiful women is worth it.”
Cami chuckles and shakes her head. I scoff but give him the grin he’s searching for.
“Are you ladies sticking around awhile?” Trey ties a black apron around his hips.
“I’m the entertainment tonight.” Cami finishes her beer and stands.
“Cool.” Trey nods and then assesses me.
“I’m her support crutch”—I tilt my head toward Cami—“so I’m here until the end.”
“Crutch this, beotch.” Cami bumps her hip against mine, picks up her guitar case, and heads toward the designated spot for her performance.
“I’ll see you later then.” Trey winks before disappearing into the growing crowd.
The place is almost standing room only. Guys are flirting, girls are giggling, and alcohol is flowing. The groups’ chatter swirls into the air to mix with Cami tuning her guitar.
“Good evening, ladies and gents. I’m Cami, and this is BUG”—she strums the acoustic guitar around her neck—“which stands for Big Ugly Guitar. We’re your entertainment for tonight, so sit back, relax, drink your faces off, and tell all your social media sites what a rock star I am. Don’t forget to tag me.” Cami picks up a white piece of cardboard that reads @CamiLovesBug.
She flashes her winning smile, and the crowd chuckles.
“This performance is dedicated to my crutch.” With that, Cami starts her first set.
I laugh and then return to writing. Several songs later I notice Connor standing in front of me.
The way he’s studying me—serious and heavy-lidded—makes me want to readjust myself on my stool, but I won’t let him see me squirm. Instead, I drum my fingers against the menu.
“You know, the service kinda sucks around here.” I revert to my snarkiness to defuse my unease. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some sustenance?”
Connor’s lips slowly tip into a delicious smirk, and his eyes twinkle with mischief. “I could say all manner of different things you could do, but I’m on the clock, and it probably wouldn’t go over well.”
“You’re a pig.”
“No, just a warm-blooded guy with an appreciation for beauty.” His gaze dips to my lips and then back up.
I roll my eyes and lift a brow. “How do you manage to date if those are your moves?”
He leans in and crooks his finger at me, beckoning me to lean forward. My butt stays firmly planted on my seat.
“Those aren’t my moves, Journal Girl,” he whispers. “Maybe, if you play your cards right, I’ll show you a few of them later.”
“Mmm.” I bend slightly closer to Connor but not near enough to send red flags flying in Cami’s direction. At my movement, Connor’s eyes turn darker and fl
are. “Not even if you were the last man on Earth.” I sit back and cross my arms over my chest, feeling smug until I notice the gleam lighting up Turkey Head’s face.
“Hmm.” Connor stands tall. “Now, see, that’s just a challenge, and you know what they say about placing a challenge at a guy’s feet, don’t you?” When I don’t say anything he continues, “Never throw one out if you don’t want him to step up to the plate.” He leans back in. “I just stepped up to the plate and plan to enjoy every minute of the game, Journal Girl.”
Well, crap.
“Hey, bro.” Trey slaps Connor on the back.
“What’s up?” Connor reluctantly drags his attention away from me.
I listen to Cami sing the last song of her set and try to ignore the guys’ conversation, but they’re having it right in front of me, so it doesn’t work. And I’m nosy.
“John and Smith backed out of the game tomorrow.” Trey holds his phone up, so Connor can read something on the screen.
“Shit.”
“Double shit, to be exact.” Trey shoves his phone back in the pocket of his apron. “What are we gonna do?”
“Find two other people to go.” Connor shrugs.
“Everyone already has plans for Thanksgiving by now.” Trey scratches his head.
“Hey, crutch.” Cami slides onto the stool next to me and winks. “I couldn’t have made it through that without your presence. Did I rock your world?”
That set went fast.
“You made us all your bitches.” I smile at her.
“Well, of course I did, but I’m parched. I need to wet my whistle before my break’s over,” Cami says.
When we turn toward Connor and Trey, they’re staring at us with identical mischievous grins.
Cami and I give each other questioning side glances before Cami says, “What are you two up to?”
“You’re coming to the Lions game with us tomorrow. A group’s going, and we came into two extra tickets.” Connor reaches across the bar and tugs a lock of Cami’s fire-red hair.
“Uh-uh. I don’t football.” She downs the rest of my beverage.
Now, we’re both left thirsty.
“But you drink, and there’s going to be plenty of that at the tailgate.” Trey bobs his eyebrows.
