Page 26 of Grudge Puck
Beau noticed my glass had gone empty. He grabbed it and poured me another.
I eyed the glass suspiciously. Did I really want to keep drinking with Beau and his buddies? I was already good and tipsy.
Hell, I was tipsy enough that I could put aside my intense dislike of Beau for long enough that I almost enjoyed rehashing old times. I was tipsy enough that sitting so close to Beau, with his muscular arm around me, his scent all around me, was strangely comforting. Even though IknewI shouldn't feel that way.
Where was this road leading us?
Fuck it.
I grabbed the glass and took a drink.
Chapter 8
Couldn't Be Sweet
Beau
The night got later, and the group around the booth got drunker.
I had more fun than I expected, catching up with Camille. She was short on details about her own life. But from what I could tell, she wasn't seeing anyone. She didtell me that, after high school, she'd earned a college degree in business. After college, she got the 'dream job of a lifetime,' working at some office in Manhattan where she crunched numbers on a spreadsheet … only to discover that it was a soul-sucking hell. AKA, exactly why I thought taking school so seriously back in the day was so dumb. Who really wants to end up working in a cubicle? No thanks. Follow your dreams. That's the rule I've always lived by, and I'd say it worked out pretty well for me.
Anyway, Camille quit the job, took her co-worker Piper with her, and the two girls opened up their bakery in Brooklyn.
It seemed like everything else we talked about was a battle, but hell, that was half the fun. And I do mean everything else we talked about. Like when Camille asked how I even found her bakery in the first place.
“Uh, your Facebook post, obviously.”
“We're friends on Facebook?” she giggled. A rouge colored her cheeks thanks to the alcohol—and the alcohol had also helped tear down the barrier of hatred between us. She leaned up against me. “Since when?”
“Hell, I don't know. Probably since whenever you added me.”
“I didn't add you,” she said plainly.
“Well I know didn't add you, either.”
“Someonehad to add somebody first,” she said.
“Yeah. You did.”
“No,youdid,dick-brain.”
“Agree to disagree.”
She folded her arms and turned her nose up at me. “Fine. Agreed.”
“I think that's the first time we've ever agreed on anything.”
“Yeah … maybe!”
“How's it feel?” I asked.
“Kinda disappointing, actually.”
“Yeah. Same here. What's that about?”
She giggled. “I dunno. But we better stop agreeing. Or else we might end up—”
Whatever she was about to say, she apparently thought better of. Looking embarrassed, she grabbed her glass and busied herself with her drink, sucking on the little straw between her lips and hoping I'd just drop it and move on.
