I don’t budge. “What game?”
“The ‘I Am a Sex Goddess’ game.” She puts her hand on my arm and gives me a gentle shove. “The one where I get a lot of tips.”
That’s when I realize just how low cut her shirt is, way more revealing than what she wears to the jobsite and weekdays when she’s at the bar.
My gaze travels to the cleavage peeking out. “I’m sure you’ll get a lot of those.” I scratch at my neck as I steal another glance.
“Did you seriously just check out my chest?” She pushes me again, her cheeks flushed. “What the hell, Tristan? That is so breaking the rules.” She doesn’t seem very upset. In fact, I think she might be flattered.
I grin shamelessly. “Hey, you didn’t make a no checking you out rule.”
She opens her mouth to object then seals her lips shut. “You’re right. I didn’t.”
My mouth curls to a smug smirk as I recall the sight of her flushed cheeks. “And I think you might secretly kind of like that I was checking you out, which is why you’re blushing.”
She bites down on her lip, driving my body into a mad frenzy once again. “Whatever.” She points her finger at the front door where people are piling inside. “Get to work.”
“Yes, boss.” I flash her my best sexy grin then turn to walk away.
“Wait,” she says, quickly grabbing my arm. “I have to ask you for a favor.”
“Whatever you need, I’m game.” I twist back around to face her. “You know that.”
“Good.” She lets me go then does a quick scan of the bar. “Don’t judge me later, okay?”
I scratch my head. “Later…? What are you talking about?”
She sighs. “You’ll know what I mean soon and, please, just don’t think any less of me… I need the money.”
“You have me worried. You’re not in any trouble, are you?” I can’t help thinking of Conner, wondering if this has something to do with him.
“It’s not about him,” she presses, as if reading my mind. “It’s just work stuff. You’ll get it later, and I hope it won’t change your opinion about me.” She returns to the tap, grabbing a glass and dismissing the conversation and me.
And just like that, any inner peace I was feeling dissipates.
I think that’s when I know—when I realize Nova is right. I do have deeper feelings for Avery than simply being friends. That everything I feel, the way I act, is greatly affected by her. I’ve changed over the last couple of weeks in both good and terrifying ways because of her, which pretty much means I’m fucked.
Because, once again, I’m falling for a girl who won’t reciprocate my feelings.
And, once again, I know I’m too stupid to walk away, instead heading straight back to that place where I’ll be broken again.
Chapter 25
Welcome humiliation.
Avery
Everything was going great until I stupidly asked Tristan to the beach, acting about as nervous as a sixteen-year-old girl who’s never been on a date before. And it’s Friday night, so my embarrassment is about to go through the roof because Friday night is dance night.
God, I hate dance night.
“He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?” Charissa ambles up to me from behind the bar and stuffs a small stack of bills into the register. “I think you like his charm, too, considering you’ve been staring at him for ten minutes straight.”
The Vibe is loud tonight, pop music throbbing from the speakers, and people on the dance floor are getting hot and heavy. The air is muggy and smells like beer and sweat, and I’ve got a line of impatient costumers waiting for their drinks. I’m moving a little slower than normal thanks to my obsessive need to check on Tristan and make sure he’s not getting too overwhelmed. I promised I’d keep an eye on him, and God dammit, that’s what I’m going to do.
“I am not.” I line five shot glasses onto the countertop, pretending what she’s saying is a lie. Because I have been really aware of him—how he’s doing, every time he laughs, every time a girl comes in and flirts with him. It’s driving me crazier than it should. Getting him a job here seemed like such a grandtastic idea at the time, but with each moment we spend together, we get dangerously closer. And I feel like I’m falling again.
Down.
Down.
Down.
The.
Rabbit.
Hole.
Stupidly returning to dreamland.
Where guys are good.
And don’t break me apart.
Where I can give them my heart.
And they won’t shatter it.
“Yeah, you are. And I notice how much you smile around him, too.” Charissa plants her butt on the counter, her legs dangling over the edge. She’s dressed to draw attention—her blonde hair in a high ponytail, her smoky eyes seductive, and her lips a fiery red. Her strapless dress leaves little to the imagination, and her leather stilettos are about six inches high. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen you smile, like a real smile, until the other night when he showed up here.”
“I real smile all the time,” I argue. “Tristan just jokes around a lot with me, so it happens more often.”
As she crosses her legs, the guy who ordered the shots zeroes in on them. “That’s such bullshit. You two so want to rip each other’s clothes off. I can tell.”
I grab a top shelf tequila, twist the lid off, and tip the bottle to fill each shot glass to the brim. “We’re just friends, Charissa. Guys and girls can be just friends.”
“Yeah, but friends don’t kiss out in the alley.”
I place the bottle on the counter and glare at her. “Hey, I told you that under the assumption it would remain confidential.”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” she promises. “I’m just pointing out that you did kiss, and you said it was a hot but forbidden kiss.”
“Forbidden being the key word. As in, it never should have happened.”
“Forbidden doesn’t mean wrong, Avery. It just means you’re confused because you liked it.”
“I’m getting annoyed by this conversation.”
“Fine.” She swings her feet onto the counter. “But answer me this. You haven’t been with a guy in two years, never shown any interest in anyone until he”—she points in Tristan’s direction—“shows up. You have to ask yourself why? Why him?”