Page 25 of Pulled Away

“What did it do to you?” a deep voice asks with a chuckle.

I startle, my head snapping up from contemplating the vodka I’m clutching in both hands. I was so lost in my self-pity, I didn’t even notice someone sitting down next to me.

“Excuse me?” I ask, eying the man sitting next to me.

He nods at my glass. “Your drink. What did it do to you?” He chuckles at my blank stare. “The way you’re frowning at it, it looks like it did something to you.”

Clearing my throat, I raise my glass, taking a small sip, grimacing slightly at the strong taste. Apart from the occasional shot, I rarely drink straight spirits. I like wine, beer, and fluffy drinks—ones with some kind of fruit in them and a straw, but tonight seems to call for something a lot stronger. “That’s a strange thing to say.”

“It sounded good in my head. Better than ‘What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting alone by yourself on a Saturday night?’ That’s such a cliche pickup line, don’t you think?”

I duck my head and roll my glass between my palms. Objectively he’s attractive, someone I definitely would have given a second glance to if I were single. A few years older than me. Well dressed, slightly messy dark hair, stubble gracing a square jawline. A dimple.

“I could buy you a different one if you’re not happy with that one.”

“You could, but that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“How so?”

“Usually when a guy offers to buy a woman he just met a drink, that’s a way to show he’s interested in her, right?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“Don’t see the point,” I mutter, taking another sip, successfully biting back my grimace.

“Anyway, it wouldn’t be fair to accept a drink when I’m here with my boyfriend.”

Even though said boyfriend is treating me like I’m a ghost.

“You’re here with your boyfriend?”

“Sure am,” I mutter again.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been watching you for a while and I didn’t realize you were with someone.”

Ouch. Talk about an arrow hitting its mark.

“You’ve been watching me?” I ask, turning to him, trying to ignore the way my shoulders want to curve in.

“Of course. How could I not?” he says, his eyes lingering on my mouth. “So, which one is it?”

“What?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“The blond next to the redhead.”

He turns to look at our table and after a few drawn-out seconds, he turns back to me, a quizzical expression on his face.

“What?” It’s impossible to keep the defensiveness out of my tone because I know he sees exactly what I’m seeing. Hadley leaned into Ryan, the four of them laughing at something. Just two couples out for a nice meal and a good time. No fifth wheel to be seen anywhere.

“It’s nothing,” he says with a small shake of his head, but I can see the questions in his eyes when he looks at me.

“She’s his best friend,” I mutter, feeling like I deserve a medal for not using air quotes around the best friend part.

“In honor of not beating around the bush,” he says, a frown crinkling his forehead, “I thought they were a couple.”

“I know,” I sigh, feeling strangely validated.

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