CHAPTER THREE
Piano music wafted through the hotel’s bar, sliding across the tiny stage and wrapping around our cocktail table.
“I don’t know why she likes this place,” Heather said under her breath.
“It’s nice,” Rory argued.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It feels kind of old timey, you know? Like it’s the twenties.”
“It is,” Heather agreed, playing with one of her dangling earrings. “But London usually hates these kinds of places.”
“True,” I agreed again. An evening at the ball park spent guzzling beer from a plastic cup was more London’s style.
Rory nodded toward the door. “Here she comes.”
I turned in my seat. London threaded through the tables, smoothing her skirt as she walked. Her chestnut brown hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and she had on more eye makeup than she usually wore, though it looked great. She waved at us, but her eyes darted in the direction of the bar, where the buff blond bartender stirred a cocktail.
I laughed and turned back to Heather. “I think I know why she likes it here so much.”
“Hey, guys!” London chirped loudly as she took a seat.
“Hey,” Rory said. “You know that blond bartender over there?”
London nodded with wide eyes. “Yeah?”
“He came over and asked if you were coming. He wanted to know what you’re up to later.”
London’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “And he wants to know what you prefer, missionary or doggy.”
“Stop!” Heather chastised. “This is mean.”
“You bitch,” London snapped, though she couldn’t stop her smile. She reached across the table and grabbed Rory’s beer and took a drink. “That’s reparations for getting my hopes up.”
“Well, at least now we know why you like this place so much.”
“Do you think I have a chance?”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Definitely. Now let’s just laugh like we’re having the best time of our lives. Cross your legs and flip your hair. He’ll come over here eventually. Then you can order some kind of cocktail that has the word sex in it.”
“And ask him to go heavy on the cock,” Rory added.
Heather and I burst into laughter, though she blushed and glanced around to see if any of the nearby people in suits were listening.
London bit her lip and smiled. “Good. Now, what were you guys talking about before?”
I sipped my Manhattan. “How famous Rory is going to be.”
Rory shrugged in mock modesty. “Here’s hoping.”
“We were about to talk about Quinn’s new guy,” Heather said.
I put my hand up. “Ugh. There is no new guy.”
“That soldier boy—”
“Is not an option. Trust me.”
Rory laughed.
“What?” I demanded with a glare.
“It’s just that… well, judging from what I know about him and what you told me, I think I know why you’re so put off by him.”
“Yeah, because he’s an ass.” I sat up straighter and caught the eye of the cocktail waitress then pointed at London.
The waitress hurried over.
“A gin martini, please,” London told the woman.
“Extra cock,” Rory teased.
The waitress nodded in confusion and left.
Rory clutched the edge of the table and leaned over it to look me straight in the eyes. “You’re Type A, Quinn, okay? And that’s putting it in the mildest sense.”
“So? What’s your point? There’s nothing wrong with that.”“I’m not saying there is. I was just about to get to my point...”
“You’re hard on men,” Heather said, jumping in.
I clicked my tongue. “Oh my God, I am not.”
London cocked her head. “I think Rory is saying more than that. She’s suggesting that you and Army Boy are too similar.”
Rory pointed at her in excitement. “Exactly! She didn’t like it when he started talking shop with her.”
I lifted my palms in frustration. “Because he doesn’t know what he’s talking about! He doesn’t know anything about the industry! He’s in the reserve. How on earth can you call that ‘talking shop?’”
“You don’t know what he did before that. Am I right? Or did you actually get that far in your conversation?”
“Ugh. Fine. Whatever. You can spin whatever theory you want to about it, but you’re not right.”
“Actually, I think she’s right,” Heather said.
“Me too,” London nodded. “You were like this with Dan… and Javon… And they were both great guys.”
“Mm-hmm,” Rory murmured. “But they were both too much like you.”
“Dan is afraid of nature,” I pointed out, jabbing a finger at her. “He wouldn’t even go to the park.”
“Other than that, you guys are extremely alike.”
“Okay, fine. So, this Seth guy might be too much like me. That means we wouldn’t get along. You just made a case for that. Dan and I didn’t work out, and neither did Javon. Opposites attract.”
Rory checked something on her phone. “And sometimes fail. And those relationships didn’t last longer than a month each time because you didn’t want them to.”
“Dan was afraid of grass,” I stubbornly persisted.
“And you’re afraid of commitment.”
“Um, excuse me. I’m actually not in need of it. There’s a big difference. And if boyfriends are so great, where’s yours?”
“I’m working on it,” she smiled coyly.
The waitress popped in and set London’s drink in front of her. “This is on the bartender,” she smiled, then left.
London’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God. Is he looking at me right now?”
The man in question glanced over and then went back to work taking a couple’s order.
Rory and Heather did their best to bite back laughter.
“Oh, yeah,” Rory said. “And he wants you to know the extra cock is in the back storage room. Meet him there in five.”
“Whatever.” London grinned.
“Seriously. He’s saying all of this with his eyes. Heather, back me up.”
Heather giggled. “Yeah, he wants to Netflix and chill.”
They burst into laughter, but I didn’t join them. I stared at the candle in the middle of the table. Were my friends right?
As off-putting as Seth had been, maybe I’d been equally unfair.
The post-it with his number on it burned a hole in my bag, searing through the leather and about lighting my thighs on fire.