Page 2 of Unspoken Rules

"You look lonely,” he adds, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. The profile of his face is exquisite. And all too familiar.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt.

That’s rude, Bryson.

He turns to look at me, raising a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

I stare at him, unable to answer because I can’t believe I’m looking at him. Here, in Astoria.

The bartender pours two shots of whiskey, sliding them to Cole Harper, my best friend’s father. The man who did more for me than my own father ever did.

“I was supposed to be going to my father’s,” I explain.

He nods as if he understands what I’m saying without saying it. He knows my father lives just over the Washington line. Knows my father is a dick, too. Of course he’s never said that. Not to me, at least. But everyone knows Bart is a douche.

It makes sense I’m here. But why is Cole?

“Let me guess. He blew you off?” Cole pulls out his wallet and gives the bartender cash.

I sigh, reaching for my beer. I don’t want to answer that question. It’s still embarrassing after all this time.

When I don’t answer, Cole adds, “Why didn’t you call Christopher?”

Chris is his son. My best friend since kindergarten.

“I did.” I take a long swig. “He didn’t answer.”

When my father stopped responding to me, I called Chris to see if he’d be able to pick me up. I haven’t seen him in a few years, but we’ve remained friends and kept in touch. He went to college here, while I moved across the country. Chris is typically reliable. So when he didn’t answer, I decided it was best to leave him alone because he was obviously busy.

Cole slides a shot toward me, gesturing to take it.

I’m in no place to turn my nose up at free shit.

I pick it up and shoot it back, hissing at the burn. Whiskey sucks.

“Thanks.” I wash down the awful taste with a mouthful of beer. I don’t like the burn of the whiskey, but I like the way it warms my insides. And the way I’ll not have a single care in the world in about ten minutes. “What are you doing here?” I ask again.

“Charity event. Surprised Christopher didn’t mention it.”

Yeah, me too. Especially since he knew I was meeting my father in Astoria.

“Can I be honest?”

There’s the alcohol working.

Way too open and forward when I get a little liquor in me. It’s a curse, honestly.

“Always,” Cole rasps out.

“Pretty sure he realized how much of a loser I am and decided to get better friends.”

Cole stares at me with disapproval. After a moment of staring, he shakes his head and turns back to the bartender. “Can I get an Old Fashioned, please?”

“Fancy,” I mutter, reaching for my beer.

Cole smirks but keeps his gaze on the bartender making his drink.

When did Cole get so handsome?

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