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I shrugged. “I don’t know, man.”
And I didn’t. I knew this was Elliott, the physical therapist guy she’d told me she didn’t click with over text. I’d seen his fucking picture, for Christ’s sake.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I turned at the sound of Saylor’s voice, frowning at her smirk. “What do you mean?”
“You look like you’ve been kicked in the balls.” She sat back and sipped her drink again.
“She told me she didn’t like him. I’m just wondering why she lied, that’s all.” I shrugged and finished my beer. “Anyone need another drink?”
Colton and Holley both said yes, but it was—unsurprisingly—Saylor who decided to join me to go to the bar.
“I’m hungry,” she said by way of defense, even though I hadn’t asked her why she was coming. “And I don’t trust you not to fuck up my food. Actually, I don’t trust anyone to not fuck up my food.”
I shook my head as we got in line for the bar. It was stupidly busy in here tonight, and I wasn’t holding out much hope of food anytime soon if the packed tables were anything to go by.
We stood side by side as we waited. Saylor wasn’t exactly someone I’d ever spent a lot of one-on-one time with. We didn’t have a whole lot in common except for our friends, which made her eyeing me right now extra suspicious.
“Say it,” I said after a long moment of her pretending like she wasn’t looking at me.
“Say what?” Innocence tinged her tone, but her wide-eyed stare wasn’t fooling me.
Mostly because I knew Saylor was anything but innocent.
“Say whatever is on your mind, because if this carries on much longer, I’m going to leave and stiff you with my bill.”
She barked out a laugh. “What a gentleman you are, Josh.”
“Never claimed to be,” I muttered. “Spit it out.”
A moment of silence, and then, “You like her.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I took a step forward in the line.
So did she. “Yes, you do.”
“I really don’t.”
“Kinsley.”
“What about her?”
“You like her.”
“Of course I like her. She’s a great girl. Known her a long time.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stepped forward again.
Saylor was displaced by a few people trying to shove in the line, but she shut them out with a sharp, “Hey! Fuck off to the back of the line!” and muscled back in next to me. “Fucking tourists,” she muttered.
At least that bought me a moment of reprieve.
“You like Kinsley. You have feelings for her.” She said it very matter-of-factly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I repeated again, staring at the bar that was approximately three people away from us.
“Yes, you do.” She grabbed my bicep and forced me to look down at her with a rough tug. “I can see it, Josh. You think you aren’t watching them, but you are. You’ve had a face like thunder all night, and you’re absolutely horrific company. What do you expect me to think?”
“I think you lured me here tonight under false pretenses so you can fit me into whatever narrative you’ve built in your mind.” I stepped forward again. “I don’t know where you got these ideas, Saylor, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Oh, fuck off. You’ve got feelings for her. You were mad when you thought she wore that hot as hell dress, happy when she didn’t, thought she was beautiful, got a boner, and were glad her date went to shit.”
“Why don’t you just put all that on a billboard in the town square, hmm?”
“So I’m right.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“Saylor. Fuck off.”
She shuffled forward and pressed her side against mine as a waitress with a tray full of drinks passed us by. “No, I won’t. Why don’t you just admit it? I can see you have feelings for her. It’s not a crime.”
She wasn’t going to let this go.
Fuck sake.
“She’s Colton’s sister,” I said in a low voice. “It’s all irrelevant.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not me, so what you think doesn’t matter.”
“Are you admitting you have feelings for her?”
“I’m not admitting shit,” I snapped. I didn’t mean to, but apparently tonight had put me in a foul mood. “Just because you put something in my mouth doesn’t make it true.”
She eyed me, but she didn’t say a word as we stepped up to the bar. Ivy and Holley’s mom, Jasmine, was on the other side, and she greeted us with a beaming smile that was reminiscent of both her daughters.
“Josh, Say!” Her tone matched her smile. “How are you both?”
“We’re well, thank you, Mrs. Stuart,” I replied. “Can we get some drinks and food to our table?”
“Sure can, darlin’. And I’ve told you—call me Jasmine.” She whipped a notebook out of thin air and leaned on the bar. “What can I get you?”
