Tony wipes his hands, and his gaze flits to me. “So, Logan drove you home, huh?”
“Yeah, he also insisted on making sure I was okay. So I let him into my apartment, and then I freaked out big time. He held my hair while I threw up for what seemed like forever, and then I used him like some sort of comfort pillow and cried all over him.” I cringe at the memory.
“Are we talking about the same asshole that treated you like shit on your first day working at the bar?” Tony asks, jaw slack. “I mean, he is fine as hell, and I would be all over him if he wasn’t straight, but I wanted to knee him in the balls that night. I seriously considered it. He’s lucky he’s Emily’s brother,” he scoffs.
“I promised Logan I would tell you he apologized. He was afraid you would castrate him the next time you saw him.” I laugh, and then my smile dies on my lips the moment I remember how he left in a hurry after he kissed me.
“Uh-oh. What was that look?”
I purse my lips. “What look?”
“Oh, c’mon, buttercup. Do you think I was born yesterday?” He arches an ebony eyebrow in my direction.
“I’ll tell you if you promise you won’t mention anything about it to Emily. I don’t want things to get awkward at work.”
Tony makes an X sign with his finger over his heart, then mimics zipping up his lips and throwing the key as if to say, “My lips are sealed.”
Sighing deeply, I let the words pour out of me, “Okay, so after I cried all over Logan on my bathroom floor, I fell asleep, and then I woke up the next morning with him still there, sleeping on my couch. Long story short, I made him breakfast, and then he kissed me. We were about to do more, but his phone rang, and then he looked at me with this deep shame and regret I’ll never erase from my mind. He got his phone and took off faster than a bat out of hell. I know I’m not the most beautiful or your average size-zero girl, but it still stung like a bitch.”
Tony clucks his tongue, throwing me a scathing glare. “I’m going to stop you right there, buttercup. I may be gay, but I know when I’m looking at a beautiful woman and you, baby girl, are hot as fuck. Have you looked at yourself? So many women would die to have your curves. So what if you’re not a stick? Fuck him. We’ll find you someone you can hook up with at the party.”
He holds his cocktail glass up in the air between us. I meet him halfway, clinking my glass to his, and by the time we both finish our margaritas, I’m already feeling better about the whole Logan situation.
17
Ava
Busy with work, the days melt into each other, time passes in a blur, and before I know it, Halloween is already knocking at the door. It was a bit strange to be back at the bar after the attack, Wednesday night being the hardest, but Tony and Emily helped me keep my mind off it, and we fell into our routine.
Logan hasn’t shown his face since he left my apartment in a haste, which doesn’t lessen the blow I suffered to my ego. I hoped he would at least give me a reason for acting like that. I guess I don’t deserve an explanation.
Well, fuck him.
The sound of my phone ringing pulls me out of my thoughts. I lift it from the coffee table and let out a deep breath at the caller’sname on the screen. Tucking my legs under me on the couch, I pause the show I zoned out on and tap to accept the call, my stomach a ball of restless energy.
“Hola, Mamá,” I say dryly.
“Ya te olvidaste de tu madre, Ava. I was expecting more from you,” she huffs in my ear, and I can already picture my mother pinching her lips in displeasure. It’s been two months since I left home to move across the country, and I haven’t spoken to her since.
“What were your exact words? Oh yeah…‘You’re dead to me. Don’t bother calling me or coming back home because I don’t want to see you ever again. You’re a disgrace. My biggest disappointment.’ So, I was just respecting your wishes.” My tone is clipped, but it’s nothing compared to the scalding tongue lashing my mother gave me when I said goodbye. I knew our relationship changed the moment I started taking control of my life, but still, hearing those words from my mother cut deeper than I would like to admit.
“Ay, qué dramática eres,” she scoffs.
Oh, so I’m being dramatic now? I just repeated her exact words.
“When are you going to stop this nonsense and come back home? I talked to your professors, and they told me you can go back if you—”
My jaw ticks as I cut her off. “Please don’t start again,Mamá. I’m not going home or back to law school. I’m happy here.Thisis my home now.”
“Well, your inheritance will dwindle to nothing eventually, and then you won’t be able to afford rent. You can’t expect me to send you money—”
“When did I ever ask you for money? Besides, I have a job. I can pay my own rent.”
“What job?” she asks, surprise evident in her tone.
I roll my eyes in preparation for her reaction before I answer her. “Server at a bar.”
Here it goes…
