But we made our little misfit group work to our benefit. We built each other up as others tried to tear us down. And because of that, we’ve outlasted all the other cliques in school, as our friendship has continued to grow and expand years after graduation.
“Pretty sure I missedsomethingfrom the fireworks going off between these two.” Jules looks between me and Jordan, gauging what’s going on, then leans across the table and fake-whispers her question at me. “Did he steal your underwear again?”
I choke on my spit, lucky enough not to have been drinking. Unlike Meekail, who spits most of his out as Jordan laughs hard.
“Jesus, Jules. Warn a guy next time,” Meekail complains as he wipes the small amount of beer off the table with his napkin.
She just shrugs, which only makes me smile. Jules can’t warn you—or anybody, for that matter. Half of what comes out of her mouth is a mystery even to herself. And I love that about her. She wasn’t always like this, but I wouldn’t change her for the world. I might change the pain she was in to get here, though. Then again, with how she tells her tale of getting amnesia and finding her lover boy, I doubt she would change a thing. From her point of view, the fall, the shoulder dislocation, and even the fire were all meant to lead her to getting her man. Something I would never take away from her. Even if they get all couple-y on me when I’m the single one standing on the sidelines and annoyed by it.
“Sweets, that was in the tenth grade. And I didn’t steal them, I borrowed them,” Jordan says with a pat on her hand.
Jules might remember who we are, and some other things, but her long-term memory is still shot. She gets confused on when things happened, and her blurting things out that occurred well over fifteen years ago has been common. I used to think she’d get upset if we corrected her, but once again, she proves me wrong. Always just shrugging it off, rolling with the flow. Something I envy about her.
I have a problem—lots, actually, but one being letting things go. It takes a lot for me to do that. Especially if I’m the one who messed up and got something wrong that I should know. Some people call it overthinking. I just call it what it is: brain suckage. ’Cause my brainsucks.
“Borrowed?” I say with a raised eyebrow.
Jordan looks at me, completely serious, which only makes both of my eyebrows rise. “What? I gave them back.”
“Yeah, after you wore them for a week. They were yours the moment you touched them and the trash can’s the second you took them off. I still can’t believe you let a TV show manipulate you like that,” I say with a shake of my head.
“It wasn’t manipulation, it was curiosity. If Joey and Ross could wear girls’ underwear, then the rest of us could. I had no problem with the silky boy shorts, but they didn’t hold all my bits in. What can I say? I’m a little larger than they are. Aren’t I, honey?” Jordan nods to the end of the table, and Meekail just shakes his head with a soft smile. Not answering the question, but that smiles says it all.
“I was telling Jordan that I hate him for life and he’s out of the will. He’s no friend of mine if he forces me to run.” I change the subject to avoid another sex talk, which is common for us. It’s a fun topic, and I rarely have a problem diving into it with them, but I’m literally the fifth wheel here, soon to be seventh when the others arrive. Too many couples in our little group and not enough sex on my end to make me willing to sit here and talk size difference.
“Forced? I am not the one who created this whole bet thing. I’m simply making sure my bestie, the beautiful and very talented Bailey, succeeds. Is that so wrong of me?” He’s dramatic when he wants to be, and the worst at being self-sacrificing. But he gets the results he wants, even as I glare at him and his lips twitch, hiding his smile.
“No, it’s not wrong.” He smiles in triumph as I take a drink. “But you’re still out of the will.” I grin as his drops and he pouts.
“Here you go, Kitten. Let me know when you want another.” Flint drops off Jules’s Diet Coke with a kiss to her lips. It’s actually a quick one for once, since they usually suck face for a good forty-five seconds even if they’re apart for like a minute. But I get it. They’re inloooove. Yuck. Okay, not yuck for them, just yuck to watch as I sit at my party-of-one table. At least they’re pretty to watch. And I do watch, like half the damn bar does. They draw your attention.
Jules is the epitome of girl-next-door beauty, with her brunette hair falling to her shoulders and her round face with big expressive eyes that seem to light up any dark corner when she’s looking at her man. Flint is the exact opposite of sunshine and brings a darkness with him. He glares at most things to keep people away, and those who don’t listen to the eyes listen to his vest. The one he wears constantly that screams Hounds of the Reaper MC. They have a reputation in this town, and just about every town I’ve been to. Everyone knows who they are, and everyone stays away. Not that I’ve ever seen or heard of them doing bad things, but they give off that aroma, and your soul just instantly knows to walk on the other side of the street.
“’Sup, misfits.” He chin-lifts the table, and we all do the same back.
Funny how chin lifting never was something we used to do. But you bring in one biker and you learn a few things. Chin lifting is about as friendly as a hug as we’ll get from them. And Jordan has tried, trust me. Meekail keeps a tight leash on his man, but Jordan has a mind of his own and likes to be friendly—sometimes too friendly. It’s funny till the bikers are one hug away from ripping his arms off if he touches them again. I get it, though. Jordan can be a lot, and if you aren’t used to him, dealing with him in short sprints is your best bet.
“Whoa, which one of you pissed off Troublemaker?”
His voice sends a shudder through me even before I see him slide in next to Flint. Should have known Flint wasn’t here alone. Once one Hound shows, others will soon surround you. Doubt that’s their club’s slogan, but I’ve never seen it contradicted.
And yeah, I know he’s talking to me. Not only ’cause I’m the only one still with a glare on my face, though minor, but since his eyes seem to find mine and not leave.
I bristle at the attention. I mean, I like it—any person would be completely bonkers not to—but I don’t want anyone to know. While I love my friends, they have a habit of getting into my business when it’s not wanted. And the last thing I want is for everyone to gossip about me liking the newest Hound. So instead, I do what comes naturally when I feel like my back’s against a wall: I become a brat and snark back.
“Troublemaker? Seriously? I think between the two of us, I’m the saint. Hell, maybe out of this entire table.”
“Don’t think anyone here can say they stopped a club’s gathering at a moment’s notice to get a guy’s ass kicked, only to wind up in a sex club.”
I open my mouth, completely taken aback that little old me actually stopped anything, much less a club gathering. I know people came to my “rescue”—not that I needed saving so much as a ride home—but I didn’t realize the impact I had on them. Totally makes sense now why so many of the club’s old ladies showed and why half the damn club seemed to have taken up residency in the parking lot when we left.
He just chuckles deeply as I keep my trap open in shock. It’s going to take a moment for me to get back to my snark. This isn’t the first time he’s left me speechless. The day I met him, he complimented everything from my lips to my hair to every curve of my body. He made it clear on day one how beautiful I am to him, and he’s never made me think he was lying or saying that just to be nice. The guy can be nice if he wants, but he’s an asshole too. I’ve seen both, but with me, I swear it’s as if he only sees me. And I honestly don’t know how to react to that.
“Don’t worry aboutTroublemaker.” Jordan gives me a cheeky grin that has me groaning. No way is he going to let me live that one down. “She’s just throwing a tantrum ’cause I refuse to let her fail.”
“Doubt she could fail if she tried. What’s she up against?”
Did anyone else hear that?The guy gives me compliments like people hand out gum. It’s unnatural to have someone always saying nice things about you without wanting something in return. At least, I’ve never had it before.
