Page 47 of From Now On

“Order at the left end,” Harlow suggests, winking.

I glance at the bar. There’s a cluster of guys standing at the left end, right by the jukebox that’s blaring Journey.

Eve giggles, then heads in that direction.

I start picking at the wet label on my beer bottle. Flecks of sticky paper fall on the postcard I was studying earlier. I should order another beer. No one else seems inclined to head out anytime soon, and sipping gives me something to do. Plus, watching Eve “prowl” will be easier to stomach with a little more alcohol in my system.

Our waitress comes by a couple of minutes later, and I request a second round.

“Attaboy, Morgan!” Aidan elbows my ribs again. “Ten o’clock.”

I glance in that direction. Two women are looking this way.

I drop my gaze before even registering their hair color. “Not tonight.”

Phillips groans. “C’mon, man. Go get laid. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

Exhaustedis more like it. Not just from the lack of sleep, but emotionally drained as well. Stuck waiting for the ticking time bomb my brother has turned into to detonate all over again.

Dealing with Sean is…well, there isn’t really a coherent way to describe what it’s like watching someone you love repeat the same destructive cycle over and over again.

I’ve never mentioned my brother to anyone at Holt. Growing up in a small town meant everyoneknew. Coming to college was an escape from it all. A fresh start. But there are times, like now, when it would be nice to tell my best friend that I’m in a shitty mood because I got a call from my brother. For him to understand what that means without having to explain—and relive—it all.

“Leave him alone, Phillips,” Conor says. Before I can feel too grateful, he adds, “Morgan probably has performance anxiety. He knows we’ll all be here, watching him.”

I flip Hart off.

I’m not self-conscious about flirting in front of my friends. I feel weird about hitting on someone else in front of Eve. But she clearly doesn’t have the same hang-up—three of the guys at the bar are gathered around her now—and that’s only exacerbating my shitty mood.

Maybe Ishouldhave made a move last night. Too late now, which is an unfortunate theme of my interactions with Eve.

“Wanna go play darts?” Aidan asks me.

I cover a yawn with my palm. “Maybe later, okay?”

Aidan studies me, his forehead creasing a little, before nodding. I must really look like shit, because he gives me a break rather than continue to badger me. “Yeah, okay.” He turns to Rylan, who’s sitting on his other side. “Dance with me, Rye.”

Rylan glances around. “No one else is dancing, Aidan.”

“So? More room for us. C’mon.”

Rylan shakes her head. But she takes his hand and they head for the small section of open floor between the jukebox and the pool table.

“Weird, huh?” Conor asks me as we watch Aidan twirl Rylan around.

They’re both laughing. They look joyful. In love.

And I hate the little pang of jealousy that hits in the center of my chest. Hate that I resent my best friend’s happiness because I’m sitting next to an empty chair.

The muscles on the right side of my neck are going stiff from the effort of not turning my head in Eve’s direction.

I’m yanked out of my thoughts by a small earthquake hitting my chair. I startle, focusing on a somber Conor sitting across from me with raised eyebrows.

“Did you seriously just kick my chair?” I ask.

“Yep. What’s up with you, man? You’ve been somewhere else since we got here.”

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