It could go either way with her.
She’s already gone, weaving through the game night crowd toward the door, but she’s left her coat and her purse. Ares is already on his feet, offering me his hand.
“You stay. I’ll take her purse and coat and come back,” I assure him.
He doesn’t look convinced, but he sits down again. Without a backward glance, I snatch Tori’s things and follow her out the door. A million questions burn in my mind, but I can’t assault her with them as soon as I find her.
I burst out into the cold night air and look both ways, but she’s gone. I hurry down the steps of the bar, toward the end of the path leading to the parking lot, but there’s no sign of her anywhere.
“I’m over here.” A sniff follows her words. When I turn, she’s sitting on a wall to the left of the door to the bar, and she’s crying. I haven’t known her for years or anything, but Tori doesn’t strike me as the crying type, which serves only to add another question to my growing list: why is she crying over some hockey player in a bar?
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She holds out her hand for her coat. When she slides it on, I hand her the purse.
I’m trying to respect her boundaries, but I’m worried. Something clearly triggered her enough to dump a drink on the guy. Did he touch her?
“Okay. We don’t have to talk, at least not right now. But I need to know if he hurt you.”
The bitter laugh that follows makes something ache in my chest. “He was a perfect gentleman. Didn’t lay a finger on me. And I didn’t mean for the glass to smash, it missed the edge of the table.” She shrugs like that’s all the answer I need.
It’s not. But pushing her won’t make her any more forthcoming with what in the name of all things holy pushed her to dump a glass of liquor over the head of someone who she’s said wasn’t being a butthead.
“Did he say something?”
She levels me with a glare. “Please leave it, Eloise. Please?”
“I’m trying, but Ares is going to want to know what his friend did to upset you so much you threw a drink over him. Oh!” I clap my hands together. “Do you want Ares to kick his butt for you? I could get him to do that.” I’m joking, but something flickers in her eyes that says she wouldn’t mind if the hockey player got beaten up. She doesn’t laugh at my joke, either.
“Tell him it’s a case of mistaken identity. I thought he was someone else.” She pulls me in for a quick hug. “My Lyft is here.” Pointing to a car that has pulled up to the curb, she takes a step. “I’ll let you know when I get home, okay?”
I’m reluctant to let her go, but she clearly needs her space. I tuck my lip between my teeth to stop any of my words from falling out, and instead nod. Something isn’t making sense for me in this situation with my best friend, but I don’t have time to mull on it because as soon as I turn to face the door of the bar, my boyfriend comes out.
His suit jacket hangs over his bare arm. His shirt sleeves are unbuttoned and pushed up his forearms, but I don’t have time to linger on his really hot arms because blood is dripping from his face onto his button-down shirt.
“What on earth?”
He’s scowling, clutching a Kleenex to his face, but he seems to have the wrong spot because more blood falls on his shirt instead of seeping into the tissue. He’s alone, and he’s muttering to himself in Spanish under his breath.
“Did you pick a fight with the guy Tori dumped a drink over?” I don’t know that other guy, but he’sdefinitelyhaving a bad evening. I feel sorry for him.
“Raffi? No,tesoro. I didn’t hit Raffi.” He pauses to slip his jacket on, holding his tissue between his teeth. He starts toward where his car is parked, but I press a palm onto his chest to stop him.
“What happened, Ares?”
He relaxes against my palm. “Some of the Wolves seem to have escaped their curfew and came to the bar for a drink.”
So, he beat up on the opposition for no reason? Discomfort is claiming my body in waves. I stay silent, waiting for him to clarify what happened inside the bar before I make any rash decisions, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned about his brash behavior.
“They came over and started trash talking.” He rolls his eyes. “They made fun of us. When you blew me a kiss before the game.”
Oh, no.
“I guess there’s a video in circulation.”
“You punched him because he made fun of you?”
His eyebrows twitch, but he shakes his head. “No,tesoro. I didn’t start this one. I’m on my best behavior these days.” He winks at me, and I swear my panties dissolve between my legs. “I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”
I take the tissue from him and dab at the blood trickling down his face. It’s coming from his nose, which is reassuring. He won’t need stitches. I pinch the bridge of his nose, and he winces.
