Tattooed Troublemaker - Elise Faber Page 0,52

there anyway and fucked up again . . .

Or if Charlie got hurt because my dumb ass freaked out a second time . . .

“He’s going to upchuck,” Lane said, super helpfully.

“Yup,” Sam added, even more helpfully.

I dropped the slice. I’d just eaten too much fucking pizza, that’s why my stomach was in knots. The only reason. Not because these dumb asses who knew me better than any other person on the planet had hit the nail on the head.

“Think about it this way,” Sam said. “What does your life look like without Charlie?”

Fucking empty.

That’s what it looked like. Miserable and empty and alone and . . . empty.

I didn’t want to walk into the tattoo parlor or go to hang out with Tig and know I would never see her again. I didn’t want to never smell the tropical scent of her or hear the velvet rasp of her laugh or miss out on the chance for her to give me attitude or tease me back or lay the sass on thick.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I’m guessing by the sick look you’ve got on your face that your future looks pretty fucking bleak without her.”

Lane grabbed my face, holding it in both palms and staring deep into my eyes.

I batted him away. “Dude.”

“Yup. He definitely looks bleak,” Lane agreed.

“It’s easy for you fuckers to say,” I muttered. “You’ve”—I pointed to Sam—“got Johanna and your”—now I stabbed a finger in Lane’s direction—“dick is allergic to being in the same pussy more than once.”

Lane reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, guilt making his features appear contrite, for probably the first time in his entire life. “Actually, I’m seeing someone,” he said, dropping his hand and meeting my gaze, “and it’s serious.”

I threw up my hands. “So, I’m the only hopeless one?”

Sam shrugged, nudged my leg with his. “If the shoe fits.”

“Great,” I grumbled and reached for the tequila bottle.

“Nope,” Sam said, swiping it and carrying it into the kitchen. “You’ve hit your tequila limit and I, for one, am not spending my weekend in New York cleaning up your vomit.”

I sighed but didn’t protest because Sam was right. My head was woozy, and I’d be hurting tomorrow already.

Add in a few more shots?

Taking the train to Puke Town.

“I want her back—” I shook my head because that wasn’t quite right. I hadn’t had her. We’d merely been the beginning of something, a possibility that might—would—turn into something special. “Okay, so I want her in the first place.”

“Hallelujah,” Sam cried.

I punched him, but because I’d had enough tequila to make my cheeks hot, I knew it didn’t actually hurt.

Especially when he grinned.

Asshole.

“Well, Cinderella,” Lane said, a huge grin on his face as he tied his joke into Sam’s sarcasm from a minute before. He snagged his own slice of pizza. “Now, you need to tell us more about Charlie, and let’s see if we can’t figure out a way for you to get her in the first place.”

“I hope you give your girl better romantic sentiments than that,” I muttered.

“There’s a difference here,” Lane said.

“And I bet you’re going to tell me.”

More muttering, but yes, I was feeling like an idiot in regards to Charlie and also experiencing some pretty intense FOMO.

“Sure am.” Lane took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “The difference is that I have a girl.”

Sam piped in. “Also, the difference is that I advised him to get his girl chocolate when his dumb ass fucked up with Cynthia.”

Lane nodded. “It worked, too.”

“And who advised you to get your girl chocolate in the first place?” I asked, more curious than irritated at this point.

“No one,” Sam said.

“Cosmo,” Lane said.

I lifted a brow.

“I’m just that brilliant,” Sam attempted.

Lane and I both looked at each other, lips twitching.

“Fine,” Sam grumbled. “It was Cosmo. But it wasn’t like I bought the magazine in the store. Johanna left it open on the counter for me.”

Lane and I looked at each other again, this time our lips doing more than twitching. We grinned and burst out laughing, Sam joining us.

“My best advice,” he said once we’d gotten our shit under control, “and take this from the one man in this group who’s actually been with a good woman for more than two months”—he nodded at Lane—“is that the best thing you can do sometimes is shut up, and just be there.”

“And read the magazines they leave out open to a certain page,” Lane quipped.

Sam just nodded sagely. “Damn, right. Be observant. Be smart