“You think so?” he asks, sounding almost skeptical.
Layla nods, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. “It’s got this cozy southern charm. I could make a video about your bar, give you some real exposure if you want.”
Something shifts in Reed’s expression. He doesn’t smilemuch. Hell, he barely even cracks a full grin, but right now, he does.
Just a little.
Catalina bumps her elbow into my side, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh my god, do you see that?”
I grunt, sipping my drink, already exhausted by whatever bullshit’s about to unfold.
Maverick leans in, way too close to my damn ear, his voice booms loud enough to rattle my skull. “Are we all just gonna ignore the fact that Reed is making actual goo-goo eyes at Layla?”
Reed calmly picks up a bottle cap and whips it at Maverick’s head. “Shut the fuck up.”
Layla giggles, the sound sweet and unfiltered, and I swear to God, Reed visibly softens.
Maverick snickers. “Damn Reed, you never smile at me like that.”
Reed doesn’t look up as he continues drying glasses. “That’s because I don’t like you.”
Catalina is full-on dying next to me, laughing so hard she has to clutch the edge of the bar to stay upright.
I should’ve lefttheir drunk asses here and gone home.
I’m sitting in the corner of my brother’s bar, nursing a beer and watching the disaster unfold like a goddamn babysitter. Catalina and Layla are slumped over each other in their booth, giggling about shit that probably doesn’t even make sense to them anymore.
Catalina lifts her head and looks at me. Her glassy, redrimmed eyes meet mine. “If I were a worm, ” she slurs, “would you like me?”
I blink at her, completely lost.
If she were a what? What the actual fuck?
Before I can form words, Layla hiccups loudly, chiming in.
“Yeah, Connor,” she hiccups, “would you?”
“My name is Carter, thank you,” I reply. “And why the fuck would she be a worm?”
Layla scoffs dramatically and throws her hand in the air like I’m the idiot. “Ugh, you don’t get it.”
They both dissolve into giggles, turning their attention back to Amelia like they’ve already forgotten I exist.
Maverick—that jackass—is laser-focused on Amelia, still trying his hardest to wear her down. She looks like she’s two seconds away from launching her drink straight into his face.
“Admit it,” Maverick says, leaning in with that infuriating smirk of his. “You think I’m pretty.”
Amelia stares him down, completely unimpressed. “I think you’re a weasel,” she snaps.
Maverick clutches his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. “That’s so hurtful, Amelia.”
Layla snorts loud enough to make heads turn. “No, what’s hurtful is the fact that you haven’t brought me pizza,” she slurs, slamming her hand on the table. “PIZZA!”
Jesus Christ.
She’s downright terrifying when she’s drunk.
I glance over at Reed, and give him a look that saysget the damn girl some food before she burns this place down.
