Page 19 of One More Round

I do not care that Simon is dating someone and that it might be serious.

I do not care that Simon is dating someone, because I date. All the time. So, it doesn’t matter.

I do not care that Simon is dating some chick who is probably some dumb booth babe who has more between her armpits than her ears.

Why don’t I care? Because Simon and I aren’t even friends.

Not anymore. Therefore, I do not care!

I keep telling myself this, feeling more and more confident as I make my way back to the table.

I get within earshot of the table when I hear his voice. I shoot my gaze over and, speak of the devil. There’s Simon, pulling up a chair to the table.

Shut the front door. His date did not just sit down in my seat.

Oh, no. No. No. No.

I’m not OK with this.

I totally fucking care.

Morgan catches my eye right as I realize that I’ve stopped dead in my tracks. I take a deep breath and soldier on.

She quickly snags a chair from the table behind us, and really, where are all these extra chairs coming from? This place is packed tonight.

I walk up to the table and squeeze in between Booth Babe and Simon and pick up my beer.

“Pardon me. I’ll just move my stuff,” I bite out.

In my haste to not make a scene but to make it known she just took my seat, I come face-to-face with Simon. I mean so close that I can feel his breath on my cheek. I have to lean back to make eye contact.

What I see isn’t what I expected to find.

No, instead of the daggers he usually saves just for me, he’s fighting a smirk. There’s … laughter … in his eyes.

Does he think this is funny?

Argh!This is stupid. Why does it even matter that the bimbo took my seat? It’s a bar.

“You always were so polite when you were pissed,” he says in a low chuckle.

“You were always so clueless,” I snap.

The daggers are back, oh … how I missed my favorite Simon look.

I can tell he wants to reply, but he doesn’t. I move out of his way and walk around to the other side of the table.

I use this time to take deep breaths.

But I sit down and realize I’ve got both Morgan and Ruby’s attention. Ruby looks interested, but Morgan seems concerned. She leans into me.

“You OK, Gia?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” I force a smile and try to jump back into the conversation.

Minutes go by and Ruby has killed her plate of loaded tots, under the time limit Link challenged her to. And I’ve just about had it with Little Miss Booth Babe.

She’s all touchy and feely, and oh my God—was I right about the big boobs and little brain.

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