Page 53 of Don't Think

She holds up a hand to cut me off. “I’m just saying.” She shrugs. “You two would make cute babies,” she adds, making stupid little kissy noises.

My cheeks heat, but no words fall from my mouth.

“Excuse me,” Nora cuts in with mock offense. “I thinkGarethand I would make pretty cute babies.”

“Why are we even talking about babies right now?” I shake my head, suddenly feeling overly annoyed.

My face is on fire, and I know they can both see it. Which is probably why Ana keeps pushing since it’s her favorite thing to do. But what she doesn’t know is that deep down… ithurts.

I’m not going to sit here and deny the fact that I have a crush on Jax. It’s a totally normal human reaction when you’re around someone with as much talent as he has, and how sweet andcaring he’s been while I’ve been missing my girls, and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.

But it’ll never happen.

Rock stars don’t end up with single moms. Not in the movies, not in the books, anddefinitelynot in real life. We’re always the ones forgotten.

I’m not going to let myself get attached to a false hope. The attraction can exist, sure, but it’s going to stay exactly where it is. Quiet. Contained. Safe. Where it can’t be touched or hurt.

And honestly, if he really did look at me the way Ana claims he does… he would’ve texted me by now.

I walk to my bedroom door, flinging it open as it bounces off the wall. Their heads snap up when they see me standing in the doorway.

“Let’s go, girls,” I say with my best Shania Twain impression.

One thing I didn’t look up before leaving New Hampshire? How wild the bar scene is in Boston. And honestly? I’m glad I didn’t. Because if I had, we absolutely wouldn’t be here right now.

Standing outside on a crowded sidewalk for half an hour doesn’tsoundthat bad. But when you’re in heels and a short dress… it’s pretty awful.

When we finally reach the entrance, a tall man with a round midsection and a five o’clock shadow stands with his arms crossed like a statue.

“ID?” he asks, not moving an inch.

I dig mine out of my wallet and hand it over quickly. He studies the picture for a few seconds, then glances at me, then back at the photo. Probably because it looks like a fake. Mylicense photo was taken right before I had Lydia, so my face was a lot more…round. I’ve lost nearly sixty pounds since then, something I’m proud of, but it’s made using my ID a lot more difficult.

He hands it back without even cracking a smile, then gives a slight nod toward the door. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing past him and into the bar.

Stepping inside, it’s just as packed as I imagined it’d be from the line outside. A sea of bodies sways to the beat, the bass vibrating through my bones, and I haven’t even had a drink yet.

Suddenly, Ana grabs my hand and yanks me toward the bar top, practically throwing me onto a stool. She leans forward and somehow, with barely any effort, flags down the bartender.

Her gaze snaps to mine as she leans in, shouting, “Shots?”

I nod. Shots feel like the move tonight. Mostly so I don’t keep thinking about how many people are crammed in here and just how many of them might be judging me and my poor choice in clothing.

Drunk Allie won’t notice—but sober Allie? She seeseverything.

The bartender slides three shots down the bar, and I catch mine easily. We clink our glasses, and I throw back the shot, the liquid burning its way down, immediately spreading a warmth in my chest.

I slam the shot glass down with a loudclank, shaking my head vigorously. God, it tastes like straight rubbing alcohol. Ana and her love for tequila shots are going to be the death of me.

I twirl a finger in the air. “Might as well keep them coming!” I shout over the music.

“Ah!” Ana cheers, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “That’s my girl!”

By the third… fourth? Maybe even fifth shot, my whole body is humming with warmth. My shoulders start to sway to the music, even while still seated.

Nora leans into me, laughing so hard she nearly knocks me off the stool.