Meg said she wanted to come check out her new neighborhood. It’s trendy and cute with tons of little bars and restaurants. Who would’ve thought that all of this existed right across the river from honky-tonk central?
We had the twenty-minute drive to gush over my kiss with Elliott and commiserate over her woeful love life. But ever since we stepped inside the bar, Meg and I have been reduced to communicating via hand signals. I like loud music as much as the next girl, but it’s not conducive to conversations.
Maybe we should’ve just gone to The Alley.
As we push our way through the crowd, she curls her hand like she’s holding an imaginary glass and tips it toward her mouth.
I nod. A drink is exactly what I need.
She grabs my hand so we don’t lose each other and together we squeeze between everyone, snaking our way to the bar.
Five minutes later, Meg already has hearts in her eyes. When the dark-haired guy she’s chatting with looks away, she glances over her shoulder at me, gesturing to her own toned arms andwaggling her brows. She’s an arm girl, and the guy she’s snagged is cut. Since I didn’t hear a word he said when he introduced himself to us, I’ve lovingly named him Timmy Triceps.
“You wanna dance?” someone shouts into my ear, rattling my eardrum.
I shake my head at the stranger in a pinstriped button down. He’s left the top four buttons undone, exposing a very tanned, very toned chest. Unfortunately, he looks like he loves himself a little too much to entice me. Plus, I could never take a man seriously when his eyebrows are more groomed than mine. “No thanks.” I need at least three more drinks before I feel like finding some lucky guy to grind up on.
A vision of Elliott in the kitchen flashes like a strobe light. If he were here, I wouldn’t need any drinks at all.
Idiot is right.
While Meg works her magic on “Timmy,” I sip my gin and tonic and pull out my phone.
My stomach flutters when I see a text from Elliott. He sent a screenshot of a red bra with a question mark.
I snort so hard, my drink goes right into my lungs.
9:15 PM
Not even close
Three dots pop up and another photo comes through. A silky brazier my grandma would have worn.
Warmer
What am I doing? I’m not supposed to be on my phone flirting with my roommate when I should be making eyes at someone who wants me as much as I want him.
I’m sick of being in one-sided situationships with guys who don’t even deserve to have my number.
This time, when my phone buzzes, I ignore it.
Who is this new Loren and where did she get a backbone?
I think I love her.
Moving to Tennessee might not have worked out the way I hoped, but I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m finally supporting myself; I have a job I enjoy, and one of the best girlfriends I could ever hope for.
All in all, it hasn’t been so bad.
At least that’s what I think until I look up and see Josh waltz through the door.
CHAPTER 40
LOREN
Idiot
Can you at least give me a color?
