Page 17 of Before We Were Us

He is finding great joy in my torment.

“She’s busy,” I say, not sure if I’m trying to convince him of that or myself.

“No one is that busy.”

“Can I get the two of you anything else?” Our waitress, a tall leggy redhead, pauses at the side of our table. Her shirt is entirely too tight, her shorts too short, and the makeup she wears is too thick. Connor seems interested, but again if there are a pair of tits involved, he’s game.

“Maybe you can help us out with something?” He tosses down a half-eaten slice and turns in his chair to face her. She smirks, leaning over to rest her elbows on the table giving him what I assume is a better view down the front of her shirt. “Anything?”

Oh, hell!

Connor leans closer and the two of them share some weird fucked up conversation with only their eyes.

“My friend here has a girl he likes,” he tells her and I know even if I told him to shut up he wouldn’t so I don’t even try. “They’ve gone out a couple times, once to dinner, the second time for coffee. He’s texted her, asking her when they can go out again and she’s managed to blow him off with the "she's real busy excuse.”

“What a fool.” The redhead shoots me a glance and looks over at me like I’m her favorite dessert.

“I’m telling him she’s giving him the brush-off and he’s falling for the busy excuse.”

“No one is that busy,” the girl repeats Connor’s earlier words. His grin widens as he nods in agreement. “It takes thirty minutes for a quick hookup.”

Oh fuck! Here we go.

“If the guy really knows what he’s doing, he can get it done in ten to fifteen.” She pushes back from the table and thrusts out her chest. “Let me know if I can do anything for either of you. My name’s Kendra.” With a wink she walks away shaking her ass a little more than normal.

“Why can’t you go for someone less complicated?” Connor asks me, staring after our waitress. “Someone that is looking for a little fun.”

“Because I’m not just looking for a little fun.”

“Didn’t that mentality get you in one mess already?”

He isn’t wrong, but I don’t want to think about that.

“Maybe you should worry less about my life, and more about the many women in yours.” We need a change of topic. “I’m not the one that had two different women booked for the same night. And worse than that you made a reservation for two and gave them both the same damn address to meet you.”

He chuckles as if it was no big deal.

“I’m just glad they showed up before me and I walked in to see them sitting there across from one another staring. I think giving the waiter a couple large bills and offering to cover their meal while I snuck out the back was the least I could do.”

“Was it worth them blowing up our phone for a couple hours once they figured it out too?”

“They got a good meal and I didn’t make any promises to anyone.”

Sometimes I think being like Connor would be easier, but I’m not built that way. I don’t like sharing and I don’t expect any woman I’m seeing to be okay with sharing me either.

“My advice?” he offers and I don’t respond. I already know it will consist of something I don’t care to hear and I won’t be following.

“Stop being accessible.”

“That’s your great words of wisdom?” I shake my head wondering how the man hasn’t been ran over by some scorned girl by now.

“Must work considering I’m not the one sitting here looking at my phone every five minutes expecting a call or text to be waiting for me.”

I don’t bite back, because he’s not lying. The urge hits me to do exactly that, as I flex my fingers against the tabletop. Instead I lift my hand and motion to the waitress for two more beers.

And a couple shots.

I stumble over the threshold into my apartment at a little past midnight. I should know better than to attempt to outdrink Connor. The guy’s a fish, I honestly think he convinced his new redheaded friend to serve him water instead of vodka halfway through the night to outdo the other.

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