Page 23 of The One I Love
Did he have to mention Amelia?
Shane: Are you fuckers in or not?
Wes: I’m in. Betsy and the kids are on the couch watching a movie, so I’m sure I can slip out. I’d rather not watch Harry Potter for the hundredth time.
Simon: I’m in and running up your tab like prohibition is coming back tomorrow and this is our last night of legal fun.
Shane: You’re an asshole.
Simon: I think I’ll be drinking Johnny Walker Blue…
Shane: I hate you. Oliver? You in? Or are you still ignoring us?
Wes: Oliver, we talked about this. You can’t ignore us. We will come knocking down your door.
Simon: Seriously. As your number one best friend, I’m worried about you.
Wes: Are you still ranking the best friends? I thought we squashed that.
Oliver: Sorry, guys. Can’t come out tonight. Have one for me, though.
Wes: Why aren’t you coming?
Simon: You have a hot date or something?
Oliver: I just can’t come.
Wes: He does.
Shane: Please don’t propose tonight.
Oliver: No promises.
An hourlater I’m walking into The Joint, our local bar, and it’s everything I usually hate about a Friday night crowd. Busy. Loud. People. But tonight? Tonight, it’s just what I need.
I look toward our normal table and see Wes waving me down. I head that way when a voice that sends shivers down my back stops me in my tracks.
“Hey, Shane.”
My whole body stiffens when I hear Emily Babcock’s voice. I can only compare the timbre of her voice to a combination of nails on a chalkboard and a dying cat. “Hi, Emily.”
I might not like people, but I’m not an asshole. Also, as a police officer in town—one of six—it’s good business to at least be polite to the people I protect.
Even if that person has been hitting on you since you were fourteen years old and won’t take the hint you aren’t interested.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” she says, stepping a little closer to me. “What brings you out?”
I nod toward Wes and Simon. “Just meeting the guys.”
She looks over to where my friends are sitting and rolls her eyes. “Oh. Simon’s there.”
“He is.”
Shit, now I really have to buy him a drink if he’s about to be my way out of this conversation. Women either love or hate Simon. Sometimes both. That’s what you get when you’re a cocky asshole but also are (apparently) charming. Not that I think he’s charming; that’s just how Amelia and Betsy have explained it. I’ve seen it. One time, he hit on a woman, got her number, she slapped him because he was talking to another woman, later ended up dancing with the first woman, then had sex with her in the bar bathroom. The night ended with her slapping him again when he wouldn’t take her home.
She rolls her eyes. “Why are you friends with him?”
I ask myself that question every day, but I’m not going to tell her that. “He’s a good guy.”
