Perhaps I was mistaken, but I got the feeling Jay wasn’t used to having friends. At least not close ones. And I wondered if maybe he, too, kept most people at arm’s length.
“I should go,” I said, pulling my wallet from my pocket.
Jay held up a hand. “I got your tab.”
“You invited me foradrink, and I’ve had much more than that.” I pulled out two twenties and tossed them on the table. I stood and noticed several sets of eyes focused on us. “I doubt you’ll be alone for long. Prepared to be swarmed by your admirers right when I leave.”
Jay grinned and tilted his head back, peering at me through his long lashes. “You okay to drive?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Enough time had passed in between drinks, and I’d stayed away from the heavier stuff. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Spokoynoy nochi,” he said, holding up his beer. At my questioning look, he added, “It means good night.”
I wasn’t even five steps away before a woman stood from her chair and walked over to Jay, putting her hands on the back of his chair and jutting out her ass as she leaned toward him. She was going to be highly disappointed when he turned her down. Jay flirted with women, but he had no interest in them.
I smirked and exited the bar, feeling a lot lighter than I had when going inside. As irritating as he could be, Jay had a way of cheering me up.
Chapter 9
Cason
“This is either genius or incredibly stupid,” I said to myself, opening the camera on my phone and holding it up. After days of Emery reading and not responding to my messages, I had left him alone for a while.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out when someone was avoiding you.
But then I’d seen the lube and condoms I’d taken from the hotel room and had an idea. I had placed duct tape over the front of the bottle of lube and drawn a pair of frightened eyes above it with a sharpie, like its mouth was taped over.
The lube sat on my pillow with the condoms around it. I snapped a picture and opened a message to Emery.
Me:Larry Lube has been captured. If you ever want to see him again, promptly respond with a meeting place and time. You have 24 hours.
I attached the photo and hit Send.
Laughing at my own stupidity, I put Larry in my sock drawer, along with the rubbers, and plopped down in my desk chair.
I had an appointment with a student advisor to sign up for college classes on June thirteenth, so I got on my laptop and went to the site to make sure all of my information was updated to make the process smoother. I also made a list of the classes I wanted to take. Registration wasn’t for another two weeks, but I liked to be prepared. And maybe I was nervous that something would go wrong.
Which was dumb. I’d gotten a scholarship to help pay my tuition, and I was enrolled at the school—I had double- and triple-checked. After so many disappointments in my life, I was used to things not panning out the way I’d hoped.
Ding.
My gaze shifted to my phone. Holy hell, it had actually worked.
LiamC:What did poor Larry ever do to you?
My face hurt with how big he made me smile.
Me:That’s between me and Larry.
He read the message but didn’t respond for about five minutes. Not that I was watching the clock or anything.
LiamC:I guess I’ll have to ask him about it when I meet you to get him back.
I forced myself to chill out before answering him. Because if I would’ve messaged at that moment, it would’ve been a shitload of exclamation points and smiley faces. Oh, sweet victory.
Me:You’ve made the right decision. Larry will be thankful. When and where?
LiamC:Tonight. My place.
