I DROP MY HEAD ONTO the bar table and groan. “Is this really happening?”
Ethan rubs my back and wisely stays quiet. There is literally nothing that can turn this day around, not even the best cocktails in the Twin Cities or the best pep talk from a new boyfriend.
“I should go home,” I say. “With my luck, the bar will catch fire and fall into a black hole.”
“Stop.” He pushes the basket of peanuts and my martini closer and smiles. “Stay. It’ll make you feel better to see Ami.”
He’s right. After I left Hamilton with my tail between my legs, half of me wanted to go home and burrow in my bed for a week, and half of me wanted to pull Ethan on one side and Ami on the other and have them hold me up for the rest of the night.
And now that I’m here, I actually need to see my sister’s indignant rage over my getting fired on my first day—even if it isn’t entirely fair, and a large part of me doesn’t blame Mr. Hamilton at all. But it will make me feel a million times better.
Straightening beside me, Ethan looks toward the door and I follow his attention. Dane has just arrived, but there’s no Ami with him, which is weird since they usually commute together.
“What’s up, party people?” he booms across the room. A few heads turn, which is just how Dane likes it.
Ugh. I push down the snarky voice in my head.
Ethan stands to greet him with a bro hug, and I give Dane a limp wave. He flops down onto a barstool, shouts for an IPA, and then turns to us, grinning. “Man, you guys are so tan. I’m trying not to hate you.”
Ethan looks down at his arms like they’re new. “Huh, yeah, I guess.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” I say, and then affect a stuffy British accent, “I’ve been sacked.” I’m trying—and failing—to bring some levity to my mood, but Dane misinterprets my meaning and goes in for an immediate high-five.
“Yeah you have!” Dane shouts, hand outstretched.
I don’t want to leave the poor man hanging, so I tap a finger to the middle of his palm and shake my head. “Like, fired,” I clarify, and Ethan follows it up with a quiet “Not sexy.”
Dane’s mouth pinches into a weird little butthole and he lets out a sympathetic “Oooh, that sucks.”
He’s not even doing anything douchey right now, but I swear his perfectly manicured beard and his fake glasses that he doesn’t even need and his trendy pink dress shirt just make me want to toss my martini in his face.
But that reaction is just so . . . Olive, isn’t it? I’m back in town for only a few days and I’m already in A Mood? Lord.
“I’m so grumpy,” I say out loud, and Dane laughs like I know, right? but Ethan leans in.
“To be fair, you did just lose your job,” he says quietly, and I smile grimly at him. “Of course you’re grumpy.”
Dane stares at us. “It’s gonna be hard to get used to seeing you guys together.”
“I bet,” I say with semi-intentional meaning, and meet his eyes.
“I’m sure you had a lot to talk about on the island.” He winks at me, and then adds breezily, “Having hated each other’s guts beforehand.”
I wonder if Ethan is having the same thought I am—that this is a super-weird thing to say, but exactly the thing that someone who is afraid of being busted would say.
“We did,” Ethan says, “but it’s all good.”
“You didn’t have to tell Ethan that I’m angry all the time,” I say, unable to help myself.
Dane waves this off. “Eh, with you, it’s a safe bet. You hate everyone.”
This tilts inside me, ringing untrue. For the life of me, I can’t think of a single person I hate right now. Except maybe myself, for lying to Mr. Hamilton and ending up in this place, where I’m not sure I’ll be able to pay my rent in a month . . . again.
Ethan puts his hand over mine, a silent Let it go. And truly, with Dane right now—or ever—arguing hardly seems worth it.
“Where’s Ami?” I ask, and Dane shrugs, peeking back over his shoulder at the door. She’s fifteen minutes late, and it’s disorienting. My sister is the prompt one; Dane is the late one and he’s already flagging down the bartender for a second beer.