Page 49 of Dating the Boss
“I bet I could drink you under the table.”
“Prove it. Loser has to do the dishes.”
“Ialwaysdo the dishes,” Quinn said with a scoff.
“Only because you don’t let me,” Monty grumbled.
“That’s because you don’t do it right.”
As they continued to banter like an old married couple, I looked around the nightclub.
The bass of the music rumbled in my chest as the alcohol spread through my veins. Two men made out on the dance floor, the neon lights lighting them in green and blue. A group of women stood off to the side, one wearing a sash that said Bride-To-Be. They toasted to something, then downed their shots.
After a week of me moping around, Quinn and Monty had invited me out that Friday night. The gesture was unexpected because Quinn hated crowds… and well, most people for that matter too… but he and Monty had come over to my house after I’d gotten home from work, bought us takeout, and then forced me to change and go with them to the club.
Crazy to think that just last Friday, I’d been in Ivory Falls with Daniel and arguing with the big lug to get into bed with me because it was too damn cold. That whole week at the office had been awkward and depressing.
Daniel had moved on with no problem. Each time we had talked that week, he’d been detached and straightforward, not leaving any room for conversation. He kept things business only. Like how it used to be. It fucking hurt.
“Here,” Quinn said, handing me another shot. “You look like you can use this.”
“Thanks.” I downed it, then slammed the glass on the tabletop. If I drank enough, would it make the emptiness in my chest go away? Worth a shot. Pun intended. I ordered us another round, and we drank them down.
“I’m done,” Quinn said, refusing another.
“Guess you’re doing the dishes.” Monty reached over and brushed Quinn’s bangs aside. “Your cheeks are so flushed.”
“Leave me alone, you beast.” Quinn gently swatted at him. He’d had five shots total, but with little to no alcohol tolerance, he was pretty gone.
“So much for drinking me under the table,” Monty told me with a lopsided grin. He’d worn a backward ball cap with the Texas university logo he’d played college ball at stamped on the front, looking more like a frat boy than a high school football coach. “Looks like it’s me and you, then.”
“Want me to get another round?” I was a lightweight too, but I was no quitter. I’d keep drinking until I physically couldn’t anymore.
“I can get it this time.” Monty hopped up from the table and walked toward the bar across the room.
Quinn watched after him with a small smile. “God, I love him.”
“I know you do.”
He looked at me, and I bit back a laugh when I saw that his glasses were crooked. “I’m sorry you’ve been depressed this week. You really liked him, huh?”
I reached over and fixed his glasses as I thought on my answer. I kept nothing from Quinn, so when he and Monty had invited me over for dinner that past week, I had spilled everything, telling them about the snowed-in trip and how close Daniel and I had gotten.
It choked me up a little that they had planned tonight because of me. I was lucky to have them.
“Yeah, I did like him,” I finally answered. “Fuck, I still do.” Then, because the alcohol had taken away my filter and made me even more emotional, I word vomited. “I’ve never been with anyone like him, Beck. He’s gentle and sweet. And fuck, he’s a damn good kisser. I felt so safe when I was with him.” My eyes stung. “I was happy.”
“Does he feel the same?”
“No,” I said, then sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter even if he does. We can’t be together. It’s impossible.”
“Hey.” Quinn patted my arm. “I’m living proof that nothing is impossible. Do you know how hard I fought against that knucklehead?” He motioned toward Monty, who was standing in a rather long line at the bar. “Forgiving him once felt impossible to me. But thank god I did. I can’t imagine my life without him. All I’m saying is… give it time. If he feels as strongly as you do, I don’t think much can keep you apart for long. Company policy be damned.”
“Wow, Beck. When did you become such a rebel?”
He chuckled. “Since I started dating one, I guess.”
“Monty’s not a rebel. He’s an idiot.”
