Page 72 of Never Kiss and Tell

“I hate that guy,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “I’ve never met a motherfucker who can fuck things up while trying his hardest like he can.”

I laugh. “Dad can’t stand him, either, but I guess he tries because Andi likes him.”

“And you?”

I grit my teeth. “You want the truth? I fucking hate him.”

“He good to your sister?”

I need a cigarette. Talking about this shit always sets me on edge. After practice and then seeing Bailey this afternoon, I’m practically dangling my feet over.

“Seems like it. She seems happy enough.”

“Not happy, though.”

I narrow my eyes at Jake. “Why’re you so adamant that she’s not happy?”

Jake shrugs. “It’s all over your face. You’re worried about her.”

“Excuse me,” a light southern draw, dipped in honey interrupts me before I can say anything else. A hand touches my arm and instinctively, I almost shove it off until I see the other girl slide up beside Jake. “Is this seat taken?”

It’s the girl from across the room.

“No,” I say, polishing off the rest of my beer.

“I think we need another round,” Jake says, standing from his stool, an easy smile slipping back into place as he forgets about Amy for a moment. “What do you say girls?”

The girl next to me nods. Up close, I can see she’s younger, probably early twenties. She’s got this pretty straight brown hair that hangs down her back and bright green eyes. The exactopposite of Bailey and that’s exactly what I fucking need right now.

“So, what are you doing, tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I murmur, putting all thoughts of Bailey out of my head, even if just for a little bit. “I guess, it depends on what you’re doing.”

She smiles, holding out her hand. “Morgan.”

“Well, Morgan, cheers,” I say as Jake slides another beer my way.

Jake holds up his beer and places his arm around the other girl. She’s got cinnamon hair and green eyes like Morgan. Sisters, I’ll bet. “Ladies, to you.”

Bailey

“Well, that was awkward,” I grumble as Peter pulls me down the sidewalk to Bourbon Street. I don’t know where Castro’s is, so I have no idea where I’m going, but I could see Charlie did, judging by the smug look on his face. Luckily, Peter drives us to dinner, so I don’t have to walk far in these heels.

Truthfully, when I woke up, I regretted agreeing to this date. I would have much rather stayed home and ate my feelings away with a box of chocolates, but I’m only in New Orleans for a couple weeks. I don’t want to spend it sad because my two-day fling fell to the wayside.

“You can say that again,” Peter says, chuckling under his breath. He pulls onto a busy street, leading us out of the Quarter and into downtown.

“He’s just protective of me because of Andi,” I grit, fidgeting with the strap on my clutch. Peter’s hand covers mine andhe stops me.

“You don’t need to be nervous, Bailey.”

Okay, kind of creepy, but I’m sure he meant well.

“I’m not,” I lie, forcing myself to hold still and watch the passing city out the window. It’s hard to believe this is the same New Orleans that boasts the Quarter. Sleek architecture, much like Los Angeles, lines the busy street, making it feel both cold and stuffy at the same time. Not a good feeling.

I suppose it’s childish of me, agreeing to go out with Peter, just to show Charlie that I have other options, but I refuse to acknowledge that, right now. I’m tired of being his personal science experiment. It’s almost as if he was conducting a study of the best way to mess with a woman’s head and I’m not okay with being the lab rat anymore.

“I don’t know about that. Charlie definitely wasn’t happy.”

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