Page 41 of Boyfriend
“He keeps looking this way!” Carly shouts as we stand in front of the bar, waiting for various drinks to be made. “That boy wants you!”
“What boy?” I shout back.
Carly rolls her eyes. “You don’t fool me. I’m not stupid. But I think you might be. Don’t look, but he’s watching you even as we speak.”
I don’t look, because I don’t want to encourage her. I’m deep in the friend zone with Weston, and that’s just the way it is. “He’s just waiting for his beer!”
“Yeah? Well he looks especially thirsty tonight,” Carly yells back. “Get on that.” She winks as the bartender plunks her drinks down onto the bar. With a cheeky smile, she loads them onto her tray and goes.
“Hey,” the bartender says, rapping his knuckles on the bar like he always does. “Abbi, I’m gonna need another minute on your order. But the new bouncer is asking for you.”
“What? Table zero is not in my section.” It’s always somebody’s job to keep the bouncer in free coffee and soda.
He shrugs. “He just came on shift, and asked for you by name. You’re very popular tonight. Go take him this?” He sets a glass of Coke on the bar. “Tell him I couldn’t add rum. House rules.”
Oh good grief. Like I don’t have enough to do already. But it would take longer to argue than to deliver the man’s soda. I take the drink and head for the vestibule.
On my way, I notice that table fifteen’s beers are empty. Better make this quick. I hurry toward the front door, where the bite of winter air chills my skin. “Here’s your—”
The sentence dies in my throat when I see who the new bouncer is.
Fourteen
Not Getting Kicked Out of the Biscuit
Weston
“And then Patrick wakes up in the bed with a shiner. And he’s like, Guys, guys? Who hit me?” Tate laughs at his own storytelling. And then he punches me in the arm. “Weston. Bro. You dragged me out here tonight, but you’re not a very attentive date. I’m starting to get offended. Did you even hear what I said?”
“Yup,” I say, turning to face him. “Patrick. Black eye. Got it. Now we can tell him apart from Paxton.”
Tate just shakes his head at me. “Well, at least your hearing still works. But eyes up here, big guy. If you keep staring at the hot waitress, she might decide the hockey team is creepy. The entire wait staff will start bringing us cold chicken and warm beer.”
“Oh, save it.” I sip from my excellent beer and fight the urge to look at Abbi again. I’m so busted.
“I don’t think you realize how serious this problem could be,” Tate insists. “If Abbi thinks you’re a creeper, we’d have to find a new hangout. The pizza place, probably. All those carbs, man. We’ll get fat and slow.”
Vonne snickers. “I like pizza, Weston. I’ll make the switch for you if it comes to that.”
“What are you talking about?” I grumble. “We’re not getting kicked out of the Biscuit.”
Tate laughs. “I just need to keep your attention for a whole minute. Hudson and I have a bet going.” He checks his watch. “Stay with me for at least another thirty seconds, okay? You’ve got a bad case of ADD. In your case, that stands for Abbi Deficit Disorder.”
Everyone at the table laughs, while I roll my eyes. He’s right, though. I’m sitting in this bar tonight just hoping to get a smile from Abbi. This crush I have on her just won’t be silenced. It’s actually worse now, in spite of the fact that she knows all my family’s ugly secrets.
We could be so good together. And I think there’s still a chance for us. We’re not fake dating anymore, right? So if I put Mr. Smooth to work on Abbi, she won’t feel cornered. She could just turn me down if she’s not feeling it.
But she won’t turn me down. I bet she’ll invite me back to her place for New Year’s Eve with Mr. Smooth. I’ve got big plans for us.
Sure, it’s a little risky, because I want us to stay friends. And she already knows that Mr. Smooth is also Mr. Keep it Casual. But maybe that’s just fine with her. Abbi is a busy girl who’s juggling a lot in her life. She’s going to graduate and move to another city.
But before she does, we could have some fun. Maybe I’m flattering myself, but I think she’d be open to this idea. I’m pretty good at reading people, which is why Mr. Smooth rarely hears the word no. One of my talents is knowing when a girl wants me to hit her upvote button.
There was a moment there over Christmas when we were on the same page. Several moments. And now it’s eleven thirty on New Year’s Eve. It’s customary to get a kiss at midnight, right?
All I have to do is get a moment with an overworked waitress in a crowded room. No problemo.
Even as I have this thought, I look up to see Abbi streak by. She stops at a nearby table, clears away the empty beer glasses, nodding vigorously as she takes another order. But there’s a new furrow between her eyebrows that’s not usually there.
