Page 7 of Nightmare

“Actually, I’d love a burger.”

She laughs a little, making Sarah stare daggers at her, “Should I put an order in for Jax too?”

I nod, “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be hungry when he gets outta the bathroom.” I chuckle, and Julianne rolls her eyes at me.

“You got it, Travis.”

Sarah sighs as Julianne disappears to the bar again, “I thought we were going to play pool?”

I lean back in my chair, “I can’t eat and play pool?”

She shrugs, rolling her eyes a little, “I guess.” She grabs the cocktail in front of her, swirls the straw around, mixing the colors together and then takes a long sip.

I can almost hear my hair growing, the clock ticking, the tension piling into the room as we both fall silent and drink our drinks.So fucking awkward.

What feels like years passes before Jax saunters back to our table and falls onto his stool, grabbing his beer and downing half of it.

“Where’s Rebecca?” Sarah asks him.That’s her name. Rebecca.

Jax blows out a breath and chuckles, “She’ll be right out, she’s just getting cleaned up.” His eyebrows pop for added effect and I roll my eyes at no one in particular.

Jax meets my eyes, “Pool?”

I hop out of my seat, beer in hand, “Yep.”

“But-,” Sarah starts, but Jax cuts her off.

“You stay here, mama, keep watch of your drinks.” He gives her a wink.

We make our way to the pool table sitting about 100 feet from the table, and once Sarah is out of earshot, I take a step closer to my shithead best friend, “I hate you.”

He laughs, his hand going through the messy blond hair on top of his head, “I know.”

I grit my teeth, “Do you have any idea how long this chick has been after me? And how hard I’ve fucking avoided her?”

He laughs again, the shitwad, “Yes, and that is why she is here.”

I rub my hand along my jaw, “That doesn’t make any sense, Jaxson. Zero.”

He points a finger at me as he tips back his beer and takes a hard swallow, then heads to the side of the table to start pulling balls out of the pockets. “When’s the last time you learned some girl’s name before you fucked her, Trav?”

I eye him, feeling my face heat, “The fuck?”

He plops a few balls down on the felt and then moves to the next pocket, “The worst has happened, Monroe. You’re a fuckboy.”

I press my lips together and take a breath through my nose, anger simmering in my chest, “Mind your fucking business.”

Moving to the last pocket, the one closest to me, he reaches a hand inside it and gives me a look. The look he always fucking gives me when I would rather stay home and sketch than party with him, or when I want to work a double shift at my shop instead of hitting a club.

“I’m trying to help you, man.”

I spread my arm at my sides, “I don’t need your fucking help,man.”

He rolls his eyes at me and starts moving the balls to the triangle to start racking them up. “Yes, you do.”

I huff a breath, “Well, the answer is not to invite my fucking stalker to our apartment and favorite bar, now I’ll never get rid of her.”

Jax chuckles, plopping balls down into the triangle, “You used to have game, man. What happened to you?” He spreads his arms wide, “I need my wingman back.”

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