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She grins and shakes her head. “Yeah, you mentioned that.”
“Like, ten times, dude,” Kratos mutters.
When Kelly goes back to her book, I turn to my friend.
“Hell of a night.”
He whistles. “Yeah, you wanna warn me the next time you invite me out for fight night if you’re going to be using it for therapy?”
Okay, tonight was a bit much. I can usually manage three fights in a night. If I’m feeling angry or need to work through some shit, I can do five.
Tonight Kratos dragged me away after eight.
He nods at me. “How’s the face feeling?”
“Like I slammed it into a bus, thanks.”
He nods. “And the rest of you?”
“I’m fine, Kratos.”
“I’m not talking about from the fight, if that wasn’t obvious.” He exhales slowly. “You wanna talk about the trouble in paradise back home?”
“I think I’m all set with barroom therapy, Kratos, but thanks.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Eight fights and then drinking until dawn is definitely a much healthier way to deal.”
I scowl. “It’s dawn?”
I turn and peer through the windows. Fuck me. He’s right.
“Jesus, Kelly, kick us out and go home already.”
She snickers from her book. “Don’t sweat it. My roommates are party animals. I get way better studying done here, believe me.”
Kratos raises a brow, looking past me. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it at all?”
“Positive.”
“Well, something tells me you’re about to, anyway.”
I turn as the door to the bar opens. Bleary-eyed, I blink as Taylor fixes me with a “what the fuck is wrong with you” look.
“Thirsty, Taylor?”
She rolls her eyes as she marches over.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Having a cocktail.”
She glares at me. “It’s five-thirty in the morning, Alistair.”
“I was working late.”
Her gaze lands on my left eye, which is starting to swell. “I can see that,” she mutters dryly. “Too busy being a drunk to answer your fucking phone?”
I frown, pulling out my cell. Shit. I’ve got like twenty missed calls and two dozen texts between her and my brother. There’s even a few worried ones from Tempest.
