Page 102 of Getting Over You

“I don’t know why you’re choosing now to be an ass—”

“I’ve always been,” I say, finishing another beer. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Cade. Jesus Christ, man.”

“What?” I hold up my empty bottle for the bartender.

“You’re acting insane. If I was Gigi, I’d give one damn cold shoulder for a while.”

“That’s the plan,” I tell him, readjusting in my seat, squaring my shoulders. “It’s better that way.”

“What if she planned something for your birthday? How do you plan on avoiding it?”

“She didn’t,” I spit. “No way.”

“It’s like you didn’t spend all summer with her,” EJ says through a sigh. “Rory’s right. You are stupid.”

“Fuck off.”

“Man, I’m serious.” EJ reaches up, trying to pull my beer from my hand. I yank, getting myself and my beer just out of his reach. “If you’d think about this sober, you’d realize you sound like a dick. What you’re doing to her? Dude. I know that’s what you do. I know not connecting to anybody is your MO, but you’re lying to me if you say you don’t care about Gigi.”

“I don’t. Look, look.” I point to a group of girls pressed into a corner booth. “See that redhead? In the white tank top?”

EJ narrows his eyes. His eyes scan until he finds her, like a beacon. Slowly, he says, “Yes.”

“I’m going,” I say, standing up with determination, albeit wobbly, “to get her number. Work my magic on her. I’ll show you how much I don’t give a damn about Gigi. Right here, right now.”

“Dude. I’m not asking you to do that.”

“I’m doing it.” I wring my hands, crack my neck. “Oof. A little rusty, maybe.”

“Don’t,” my brother warns. “You go talk to that girl, Gigi will never forgive you.”

“Can’t cheat on a girl I’m not dating,” I tell EJ. “So, I may do more than talk to her.”

“It’s not about cheating,” he hisses as my eyes find the redhead. She meets my gaze, waving. “It’s about doing something only a heartless asshole would. Gigi just lost her mom a few days ago. Don’t make her lose you, too.”

“Gigi can’t lose something that never belonged to her in the first place,” I tell him, then march over to meet my rebound girl.

Chapter thirty-three

My head is one thousand pounds, my limbs much heavier than that. I struggle to open my eyes, but when I do, blinking back sleep—

Wait. This isn’t my bed.

I sit up, pulling at my hair. I look over, and I’m relieved to know I’m alone.

Then I’m greeted by the redhead from the bar in the doorway.

What was her name?

God. I don’t even remember.

“Uh.” I feel around in bed for my phone. Cool metal rests under my pillow, and I’m more than bothered to see that not only is it after noon, but I’ve got at least ten missed calls from EJ and Gigi.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Good morning,” she says. “Are you feeling better?”

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