"Unreal," he mutters playfully under his breath.
I peer up at him and squint. "You know I hate beer."
His eyes grow wide in defense. "You said you were cool coming here."
"That's because you like it, and you name-dropped this place like ten times this week."
His mouth turns down as he shrugs one shoulder. "They have a good happy hour, and the games are always on."
"Yeah, hold on a second." I take another sip of water before continuing, the sour flavor still taunting my tongue. "What's that about, anyway?"
Trevor lifts his glass to his mouth. "What's what about?"
"The sports thing."
He hesitates before taking a large slug of his beer. "I've always been into sports."
"I guess." I lift the fourth and last glass from my flight and take a sniff. "But you've been obsessed recently."
"Is that a problem?" he throws back.
"No, I like sports too. You've just never been such a massive fan."
Trev wipes at the condensation that's built up on his glass. "I've thrown a couple bucks on some big games these last few weeks. It's just something to do."
"Oh," I say. "I didn't know." A faint tinge of something close to resentment coats my words, but if Trevor notices, he doesn't comment. Instead, he drains half of what's left in his glass and pulls out his phone.
I bite my tongue, stopping myself from pointing out that this is exactly what I'm talking about. He's always on his phone watching some game or scrolling on what I could now guess are betting apps. That or texting—who? I don't know.
If that's how he wants to spend his time and money, who am I to stop him? The timing isn't great, what with me worrying about my next paycheck, but that's not on him. He pays his bills and his half of the rent. Honestly, what stings isn't the money at all. It’s realizing how excited he is about something I didn’t even know he cared about.
But that’s okay.
That’s normal for us.
I’m not the girl waiting around for a fairytale. I’ve never needed fireworks or some all-consuming love. If we get along, the sex is fine, and our time together feels good enough—that’s more important to me than some big, sweeping romance. Practical, comfortable, predictable—that's what's best. It might sound sad or strange or crazy even, but I’ve never looked at Trevor Elliot and seen the great love of my life.
Brooke’s comment this morning did knock me off balance though.
He’s good to you, right?
The way she asked hit deeper than I expected. But the more I sit with it, the more I realize that what we have… works. No, we aren’t head over heels, but right now, I don’t have room for another part of my life to fall apart.
"I had an interview a few days ago with Liam Montgomery," I offer.
His head pops up as he sets his phone down on our picnic-style table. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"
I huff out a laugh meant more for the irony of his statement than anything else. "Because it was horrible. It was the day you had my car, so I showed up late, and—"
"That was who you needed the car for? Shit, Tess, youshould have told me."
My eyes flick from him to the beer garden around us. "I kind of did," I say as they return.
Trevor holds up a finger. "You didn't tell me you were late for an interview with Sunshine Montgomery."
"No…" I blink away the nickname. "But I said I needed—it doesn't matter. I'm not sure showing up on time would have changed much. He didn't really seem to like me."
"What?" he spews, nearly choking on his beer. "How is that possible?"
