Reed nods silently and disappears toward the back.
I turn my attention back just in time to catch Amelia shaking her head, still locked in battle with my idiot brother.
“Listen, Maverick?—”
“That’s Mr. Hayes to you, dollface,” he cuts in with a wink.
Amelia groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I swear to God, if you call me dollface one more time–”
“What? You’ll fall madly in love with me?” he teases.
Catalina, drunk and way too entertained by this shitshow, howls with laughter, clutching her stomach. “Oh my godddd,” she gasps, “I’m going to pee myself. Maverick, please.”
Maverick grins wider, cocky as ever. “Not until she admits she’s obsessed with me.”
Amelia blinks at him slowly, like she’s deciding whether it’s even worth the effort. Then, without warning, she places both hands against his chest and leans in, voice dropping to a sultry whisper.
“I am obsessed with you, baby,” she purrs.
Maverick’s eyes go wide, and he grabs her hands, placing them on his chest. “Yeah?”
Amelia smiles sweetly. “Obsessed with never seeing you again,” she says, pulling away.
I nearly spit out my water as Catalina and Layla burst into uncontrollable laughter. Layla practically wheezes from how hard she’s laughing.
Maverick stands there, grinning like the dumbass golden retriever he is.
“Damn, baby,” he calls after her as Amelia flips him off and stalks away, “you play dirty.”
Reed chuckles under his breath, finishing off the last of his drink before setting a greasy plate of pizza down in front of Layla.
“Oh, thank you, Lord,” she moans dramatically, “I’m starving.”
She attacks the pizza like she hasn’t eaten in days, completely unaware of the rest of us watching in half-horror, half-amusement.
Once she demolishes the last slice, Reed clears his throat, dragging a towel over the bar.
“Alright, that’s enough,” he says, voice dry. “I’m closing up. Carter, get these drunk idiots out of my bar.”
I sigh, pushing up from my chair, my entire body feeling heavier by the second. “You heard him,” I mutter, cracking my neck. “Let’s go.”
catalina
. . .
The air is thick with summer heat and tequila-soaked ambition. Layla’s cackling like she just got away with something illegal, Amelia’s trying to unlock her already unlocked phone, and I’m floating on this warm, spicy cloud of tequila.
“Wait—hold up,” Layla slurs, spinning in a full circle with her arms flung wide. “Did I leave my bra inside, or am I just free-balling it tonight?”
“You’re wearing a dress,” Amelia replies, not looking up from her phone.
“Oh,” Layla says, puzzled. “Silly me.”
Maverick’s leaning against Carter’s truck, smirking like the idiot he is, one boot kicked up behind him. His shirt’s half untucked, and there’s a lipstick smudge on his neck that doesn’t belong to any of us.
He’s got his eyes locked on Amelia, like she hung the moon. “Damn, dollface,” he drawls, pushing off the truck and swaggering up to her. “You look so fucking gorgeous right now.”
Amelia snorts. “You’re drunk.”
