just as the bartender slips our second round across the bar top. “You from around here?”
“Sort of,” I tell him. “I’m originally from Florida. My best friend and I moved here for college and decided we liked it, so we stayed. We’ve been here about seven years now.”
“You chose to stay in Colorado over going back to Florida? The Sunshine State for all this craptastic weather? You’re nuts, girl.” He shakes his head. “Beautiful, but nuts.”
I lift a shoulder. “Trust me, you get tired of nothing but sunshine and hurricanes after a while. Besides, Cooper got an excellent job here right after graduation. It just made sense to stay.”
“Cooper? Your boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “No. The best friend I came here to go to college with.”
“Your best friend is a guy?”
“Um…yes?”
I don’t know why it comes out as a question, but I guess that’s because I don’t understand why he’s questioning my friendship.
“And that works for you?”
“Being friends? Yes.”
He shakes his head, taking another drink from his beer. “No—being friends with a guy.”
“Oh. That.” I nod. “Yeah, it works for us.”
“You don’t have feelings for him you’re hung up on or anything? Haven’t been secretly in love with him since you were kids or something?”
Since we were kids? When he was a lanky, overconfident jock who thought he was God’s gift to women even though he could barely speak to them? The one who was so sick one time he shit his pants from coughing so hard? That same guy?
No. I am not secretly in love with Cooper.
I wrinkle my nose. “Heavens no. We’re just friends. I’ve known him way too long to be in love with him.”
“No repressed sexual desires, then?”
I gulp.
Not until recently. Not until I saw exactly the kind of man that same lanky kid grew up to be.
I force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t come out sounding too fake. “No. Nothing like that. We’ve been friends since we were fifteen. I’ve been there through all his awkward teen years, including when he thought it was cool to dress in those god-awful cargo shorts. That’s enough to scar me for life.” I finish off my first drink and reach for my second. “We’re just friends.”
“Good.” A grin stretches across his face. I’m sure he thinks he looks sexy and confident, and he has the confident part right, but it’s definitely not in a good way. He appears a little too sure of himself. “Glad to hear that.”
“So, do you—”
“Do you—”
We laugh when we speak at the same time.
I motion for him to go first.
“Do you sing? Want to try out the karaoke? They should be starting soon.”
Man, if Cooper were here, he’d laugh until he was red in the face because he knows damn well I’d rather step on a Lego than sing karaoke.
I crinkle my nose. “I have had nowhere near enough alcohol for that.”
“Aw, come on. You shy, babe?”
“Something like that.”
He nods. “That’s all right. We’ll get a few more drinks in you and you’ll be singing in no time.”
Highly doubt that.
“What about dancing? Want to do that again?”
“Sure,” I agree.
It’s not my favorite, but it sounds a hell of a lot better than karaoke.
I finish off my drink, instantly regretting slamming it when my cheeks grow hotter as the alcohol hits my system. “Lead the way.”
Calvin grabs my hand again and pulls me back out onto the floor.
He puts one hand on my waist and uses the other to take long pulls off his beer.
We move to the music as best we can, but we’re completely out of sync.
Maybe it’s him, maybe it’s the booze in my system, but I’m thankful when he motions toward the bar two songs later.
I shake my head. “I’m good, but you can go grab one.”
“You’ll be here when I get back?” he asks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.
I bet he thinks he looks sexy, but it just looks awkward on him.
A giggle bubbles free because all I can picture is that time Cooper was making fun of my teen drama shows and all the lip-biting they do by biting his top lip instead of his bottom. He walked around doing it at the most embarrassing times for a week.
Maybe I’m tipsier than I thought.
He laughs at me giggling uncontrollably, shaking his head. “Don’t disappear on me, babe.”
Then he’s gone, pushing through the crowd toward the bar.
Babe. I try not to roll my eyes at the pet name, a sure sign he doesn’t remember my name at