Page 100 of Heart So Hollow

Before Hannah can answer, Barrett turns back to me, narrowing her eyes, “You look familiar,” she studies me for a moment, tilting her head in scrutiny, “you’re Bowen’s girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I crack a smile, “have we met?”

Barrett waves her hand with a smile, “I’ve seen pictures of you on Facebook, that’s why. Y’all are engaged, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I nod, “so, how do you know Bowen?”

Barrett opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates. She looks back and forth between Hannah and me and then averts her eyes, “We were kind of on and off for a while last year,” she replies, flashing me an apologetic grin.

I arch my eyebrows, “Really?”

“We kept it under wraps because I was fresh out of a bad relationship. But I travel a lot for work, so it just didn’t work out.” Barrett lowers her voice, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous of you. That man has skills that should be illegal.”

I press my lips together and look away, trying not to laugh.

“Oh my god,” Barrett grabs my arm, “I’m sorry, that was so inappropriate! This was before y’all were together, I swear.”

I shake my head and wave her off, “It’s fine, seriously.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about the right guy?” Hannah breaks in, her sour face drawing up into a scowl.

Barrett looks at Hannah with annoyance, as if she just realized Hannah’s still in the room.

“Well,” she tosses her shiny mocha hair over her shoulder with a smirk, “if it’s the same Bowen Garrison from Canaan with eyes to die for and that sexy-ass tattoo of some demons right above his dick, then yeah, I’d say I’m talking about the right guy.”

My jaw tenses and the muscles in my neck ache from trying to maintain a straight face. Meanwhile, Hannah looks like she’s about to throw hands.

Barrett turns away from her with a scowl, her face melting into a charming smile a second later, “If I didn’t say it already, congratulations. He’s a really good guy. Granted, he’s so sweet that you might have to shoo away the fruit flies that are constantly buzzing around him trying to get a piece of that. In fact, when we were dating, he kept talking about this one girl that’s been obsessed with him for years and just won’t leave him alone.” Barrett snaps her fingers as though she’s trying to remember a name.

“Oh, no,” I mutter, feigning concern.

“Yeah, maybe a friend of his sister’s?”

I clench my jaw, seconds from collapsing in laughter.

“Anyway, he said she’s annoying as fuck, always hanging on him and showing up wherever he is. Kind of creepy. So, hopefully that’s run its course by now.”

I nod, biting my lip with amusement.

“Anyway, congratulations again.” Barrett spins around, giving a wave as she flings the restroom door open, “You ladies have a good evening!”

I scoff at Hannah and brush past her before the door can even close. I rush back down the hallway and burst into laughter when I see Barrett waiting for me at the corner of the bar. She lets out a whoop and grabs my hand.

“That was,” I gasp, “ah-mazing.”

Barrett links her arm in the crook of my elbow and leans into my ear as we descend back into the darkness, “Girl, I got you,” she croons as we weave through the crowd to our table.

It suddenly dawns on me that an awkward and terrifying situation may be waiting for me when we get there. I’ve managed to forget for 10 minutes what happened in the dark hallway with Wells, but I still don’t know what happened to him or who pulled him off of me. Regardless, we have to get back to Anna. There’s a high probability she’s already climbed onto some Kawasaki parked outside and ditched us for Ethan and his spotless boots.

But when we arrive at the table, there’s only one guy left. I vaguely recognize his dirty blonde hair and oddly smooth face that makes him look like a six-foot-tall Ken doll. He’s sitting next to Anna with his hand resting on the back of her chair.

“Where’d everyone go?” Barrett glances around.

Anna swivels in her chair and eyes me from across the table, “Is Bowen here and we don’t know about it?”

My stomach drops, “What?” I step up into my seat and smooth the front of my shirt.

The Ken doll hooks the heel of his brown square-toe boot over the rung of his chair. He rubs the side of his chin and sits back with a smirk.

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