Page 66 of Famous Last Words
“Excuse me, what was that?”
I jump, turning to see Hannah right there, her eyes narrowed dubiously.
“What?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“The cutsie little smile you just flashed that bartender after hewinkedat you like a fucking creep!” She snorts, saying this loud enough for Maximus to hear.
“Shhhh!” I hiss, taking my drink and heading back to the table with Hannah hot on my heels. But I find myself glancing longingly over my shoulder, appreciating the bartender one last time. “He’s hot. Can you blame me?”
“Who’s hot?” Vera asks the moment we return.
“Maximus,” I explain, like it’s no big deal, like he’s an old friend and not some random and very sexy bartender I’ve been shamelessly flirting with for the last ten minutes.
Vera looks between me and Hannah, evidently confused.
“The bartender,” Hannah answers to her unspoken question.
Vera gasps, looking at me with a knowing grin. “The one with the arms?”
I nod, smirking as I sip my drink.
“Um, do I need to remind you that neither of you are single?” Hannah points a finger from me to Vera, adding, “And thatyourboyfriend is literally right up there in that booth.” She indicates the DJ booth where Tyler commands the dancefloor from behind the decks.
“There’s no harm in looking.” Vera waves a hand with a giggle.
I say nothing because who said anything about just looking?
When my friends start talking about something else entirely, I pull my phone from my purse and open the text messages, my thumbs flying across the screen.
Me: I want out of this deal.
Hisreply comes through instantly, as if he’d been waiting for my text.
Fuckface: No.
I stifle a scream.
Me: You got what you want. Everyone loves you again. Let. Me. Go.
Fuckface: No.
I’m fuming. I wouldn’t be surprised if my blood pressure was through the roof.
Me: You’re such an asshole.
Fuckface: We’ve established that fact.
With a quick glance toward the bar, I spot Maximus working the crowd with the ease of Tom Cruise fromCocktail, and something suddenly comes over me. I’m forced to bite back a smile as I tap out my reply.
Me: Fine. But if the hot bartender asks for my number, I’m giving it to him.
Robbie’s response comes through within seconds. Literal seconds.
Fuckface: What hot bartender?
My subconscious cheers.
Me: The hot bartender who’s been flirting with me. Maximus. Huge arms and hands. I wonder what else is huge…
