“Huh.” Jordan face twists, dumbstruck. “You think that applies to baseball hats, too? Think Liam knows that rule?”
“It’s Liam. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.”
“Maybe that’s why he likes it. You know, come to think of it, he does get handsy afterI take it from him, but I always thought it was because he thought it looked sexy.”
“It’s Liam. You could be covered in slime wearing a mumu and he’d think you were sexy.”
Jordan thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs noncommittally. She knows I’m right. She’d be hard-pressed to find anything that man didn’t find sexy on her.
“Okay, fine,” she says, grabbing hold of my cheeks, and pinching them between her thumb and forefinger. “Don’t steal his hat. But go find him.”
Pulling away from her with a scrunch of my nose, I rub at my cheeks. They were rosy enough with the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream. Or maybe the blush that annoyingly crept in since I ran into the cowboy.
“Maybe.”
Jordan makes a disgusted sound, then sighs, grabbing my hand. “You’re hopeless, my girl.”
A pang of hurt stabs me square in the chest, killing everyfeel-good endorphin rushing through me.Hopeless. How many times has that word been hurled at me? Not that Jordan could have known that. It’s not something I parade around.
“I know,” I mutter, tugging her towards the door before she can pick up on the shift in my mood.
We plunge back into the darkness of the club.
She didn’t know. She didn’t know. She didn’t know. I repeat the words in my head, willing them into my heart, to keep the crack from widening any further. It was just a word, anyway, right? It didn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t hold any power over me. And yet…
Oh Brynleigh, why are you so hopeless?
How did I end up with someone so hopeless, Brynleigh?
Brynleigh, I don’t understand how you can be so hopeless.
Movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. This time I see him coming as we both move into the same space.
“Hi,” the nameless cowboy drawls, a dimple appearing in his right cheek when his lips tilt up.
There’s no swoop of my stomach. No blush staining my cheeks. Just panic threatening to rise in my chest that one of my friends thinks the same of me as—
I muster up what I can of a smile. It’s probably more grimace, making me look constipated, but it’s all I can manage. “Hi.”
He tips his head to me, then glances over my shoulder to Jordan at my back, who is squeezing my hand so tight I’ll be surprised if it isn’t broken in the morning. Encouraging me, but she has no idea that I don’t want any encouragement now. I just want to go get a drink, check the time, and see if maybe I can call a cab early, feigning illness.
The cowboy’s eyes drift back to me, scanning my face. Whatever he sees there has his smile faltering. Not completely, butenough that I notice it.
“I was going to do this whole getting in your way thing again, on purpose this time. And then dance back and forth as we tried to dodge each other,” he says, projecting his voice over the music. “But I think I’ll skip all that and just ask if I can buy you a drink.”
I open my mouth to decline, but Jordan pushes me towards him. “Yes! She will. Absolutely she will. She was just saying in the bathroom how thirsty she is.”
The look I throw over my shoulder must say enough because the smile she gives me is bordering on innocent, though her eyes twinkle with slyness. She mouths a “what?!”, but I just shake my head and turn back to the man before me, trying not to think about how the choice was taken away from me. It does nothing for the rising panic, but I do my best to shove it down.
My lips form a tight line that is less welcoming than he deserves. “Sure.”
He glances to Jordan once more, then back to me, suspicion swimming in his eyes. “If you’re here with your girls tonight—”
“No.” The word comes out quicker than I expect, and this time I force a smile. It isn’t this man’s fault that I was triggered in the bathroom by my past. Wasn’t Jordan’s fault either. “I mean, I am here with the girls. But Jordan’s right. I do need a drink. I would love it if you bought me one.”
The sparkle that had dimmed in his eyes lights up again, his megawatt grin nearly blinding me. With it this big, the dimple on the right deepens, but it’s the one on his left cheek that wasn’t there earlier that I’m drawn to.
“I’m Wyatt,” he says, holding out a hand between us.
