Page 7 of Never You

After Rae has disappeared through the door, I turn my head and see the brunette who originally had my attention. Glaring at me.

Obviously.

“Sorry about that.” I smirk, sauntering back toward her like nothing happened.

She huffs in response, flipping her hair like a diva as she storms off with a thundercloud above her head. I shrug, laughing, because I can’t really blame her, but I also can’t be bothered to chase her.

Deciding I need another drink, I stroll to the bar to order another bourbon, when a familiar face takes the barstool next to me.

“You’re late,mate.” Glaring at my best friend over the loud music, I throw my phone in front of me on the bar top.

He’s wearing a black dress shirt, and his brown hair is combed back, making him look slick instead of like the nice guy that he is. You would swear he was a Wall Street banker or something instead of a publishing book nerd.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Bodi? This is a party, not a wedding,” I taunt, bringing my drink to my lips.

“Don’t mock my sophisticated look,mate. I don’t need to put on a tight shirt to get some attention,” he counters with his thick Australian accent.

A ghost of a smile forms on my lips. “That’s because you’ve got nothing to show off.” Taking another sip, I turn around and lean against the bar.

Raising a hand in the air, he grabs the attention of the bartender to order a drink, then glances at my dark blue shirt that’s hugging my torso with an unimpressed look.

Even though we have been best friends since we were twelve, we couldn’t be more opposite. He is a handsome librarian. I am a rough hockey player.

He wants to make the world a better place. I just want the world to leave me the fuck alone. Especially the world of public scrutiny I grew up in.

“In the end, I want a woman who wants me for my brain instead of my ripped body that will most likely disappear around age fifty,” he points out, stirring his Jack and Coke.

I snort before a fake cough comes from my throat. “Pussy.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Did you see the show?” He changes the subject, something of mischief dancing in his gaze.

“What show?”

“PR girl slapped Kent.” A wide smile spreads across his face, his drink hanging mid-air as he waits for my reaction.

“Rae? Rae Stafford? She slapped him?” I frown, incredulously. “What? When?”

Dots are starting to connect in my brain, and suddenly, I realize why she was all worked up.

“Yup.” He looks over the rim of his glass with a knowing look.

“Like across the face?”

“Bitch-slapped.”

I blow out a whistle in awe, a weird feeling of satisfaction forming in my chest.

“No shit. Why?” The question leaves my lips, followed by a heavy sigh, regretting pissing her off some more after that happened.

“Something about him wanting to get back together and her telling him to fuck off.” He shrugs. “She stormed off after that.”

I nod, tipping my head back in appreciation.

Good for her.

When word got out that she broke up with Sean, I figured it was only a matter of time before he got his ass kicked by her, because it was a given more skeletons were about to pop out of the closet. When nothing happened over the last few weeks, I was starting to believe she didn’t have it in her.

I guess I was wrong. I said enough to her to deserve a solid bitch-slap, though I never got one. But Sean did. I’m not sure if I should be disappointed about that, but I am a little. I always wondered what would happen if you pushed that girl over the edge, and even though I’m not keen on getting slapped by a girl, I’d like to be the one who makes her lose control.

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