Page 61 of Don't Fall

Chapter Sixteen

Tessa

“Stop that,” Drea hisses for the third time. “It hasn’t even been an hour. Now put your damn phone away and act like you’re happy to be here.”

“I am happy to be here.” I smile at Bart who shoots a sideway glance in my direction when he hears me and Drea whispering. There’s a speech being made at the front of the room and we’re being major assholes by talking over it.

Drea opens her mouth again, but Scott notices and gestures for her to zip it. Miffed at being told what to do, she sticks her tongue out at him when he’s not looking, but remains silent until the speech is over.

After that, things get a little better. The dance floor is cleared for actual dancing, and Bart keeps peering over at me like maybe he’d like to participate but he’s just not sure if I’m the sort of full service date who can be counted on in the dancing department. Guess I’m going to have to help him out a little.

“Are you going to ask me, or what?” I tease, tipping my head toward the dance floor.

“Just didn’t want you to feel like you had to,” he says, taking my hand and leading the way. “What with Drea setting this up and all.”

“Bart, you know you could have invited me yourself.”

He looks surprised. “I could have?”

“Well, yeah.” My brow twitches the way it does when I’m not sure I know where the conversation is going. “We’ve been friends for ages.”

“Right.” He nods, understanding. And now, so do I.

“You...Drea said...I’m sorry,” I stutter, making what was meant to smooth things over a stumbling mess of words which only serve to make things more uncomfortable.

“It’s totally fine, Tessa,” he assures me, forcing a smile.

“Do you still wanna dance?” I ask, torn on whether I’d prefer a yes or no at this point.

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re kind of just standing here,” I point out, doing my best to avoid the awkward glances we’re getting from the other couples doing their best to maneuver their way around us.

“Sorry.” He starts to sway us, but we’re completely out of sync with each other and the music, and it’s only increasing the level of attention we’re getting out here.

“You know, I’m parched. How about some water?” I don’t wait for his answer, just take his hand and start dragging him toward the bar and away from prying eyes.

For a while, we stand in silence, sipping from our fancy water bottles and doing our best to avoid making eye contact.

“It’s the nice guy thing, isn’t it,” he huffs just as I was starting to think we could get past the weirdness.

“Huh?”

“I’m a nice guy. Not an asshole, like Casey or Jason, both of whom Drea’s friends can never get enough of, literally. Do you have any idea how many of you have had the same dick in your mouths in the same night?!”

Ew.

“First of all, nice guys, don’t say shit like that.” I take a step back. “Second of all, my mouth has never been anywhere near their dirty dicks, thank you very much.” Lastly, my hand comes up, pointer finger stabbing angrily at the air between us, “And third, for your information, nice guys are usually full of shit. It’s the good guys I like. And you, Barf, are clearly not one of them.” Then I stomp the hell out of here without looking back. Drea can figure things out for herself. I know the only reason she even made me come here tonight, was to try and stir shit up between Lane and I. Except, it backfired. Because I’m more convinced than ever, I’ve got the best deal to be had. It may not be conventional, but it’s a hell of a lot more enjoyable than this bullshit.

“I have a question,” I blurt out as soon as he answers his phone. “Are we the kind of roommates that bail each other out of really shitty dates?”

“Yes.” It’s simple and straight to the point. And exactly what I needed to hear.

“I’m standing outside, feeling exceptionally grossed out right now, so I’ll be pacing, trying to walk off the funk until you get here. These shoes aren’t really made for that, so I’d prefer you hurry,” I joke, trying to make light of the situation, but he’s not biting.

“Did something happen?” The sound of keys and the door slamming shut are a clear indication he’s taking the hurry up part to heart.

“I called Bart Barf.”

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