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She should have told him yes, he would pay for them, but somehow she found herself saying, “It’s okay. I can write them off.”
His eyes flashed up to hers. “This is your bar? You don’t just work here?”
“It’s my bar, yep.”
“Hey, Jay?”
They both turned in the direction of the voice. Duncan stood at the end of the bar. “I’m ready to head out. We done here?”
Petra glanced over her shoulder to see Jacob’s reaction.
He was looking at her like she had the answer to his friend’s question.
She didn’t, so she didn’t speak.
There was some chemistry crackling here, that was becoming increasingly clear—and therefore, she should say absolutely nothing. She wasn’t sure what kind of chemistry, if he was trying to decide whether she was gay or he could hit on her, or if he was just a guy who needed somebody to talk to, or if he was feeling weird about something completely unrelated and she was picking the signal up wrong, or maybe she was nuts. Whatever it was, she should not engage.
Finally, he focused again on his friend. “Yeah, let’s ride.”
He walked past Petra without another word, and the two bikers headed out. Duncan turned at the door and said, “Thanks for the beer and the talk. This place is cool.”
And then they were gone.
When Petra returned to the bar, Dre was staring at her, brow deeply furrowed.
“What?” she asked.
“You are so fuckin’ predictable.”
“Where doesthatcome from?”
“The second that twink walked in, I knew you’d be gagging for him. You have such a type.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I for sure don’t know why you’re pissed.” And anyway, Jacob was hardly a twink. He was just ... lean. A little on the pretty side, sure, but not a twink. Dre was just being Dre.
“And that’s my signal to go home,” said Katie, standing.
But Dre spun on her. “No. Wait. I know you saw it, too. Right?”
Katie looked from Dre to Petra, to Dre, and again to Petra.
Petra saw the agreement in her eyes. “What did you see?”
“You have a type,” Katie said with evident reluctance.
“I do not have a type, unless—maybe—we’re talking about personalities. I’m not even all that interested in physical form.”
Dre brayed laughter, but it was twisted with anger. Katie smiled uncomfortably.
“What the fuck is going on right now?” Petra asked, genuinely confused and getting angry herself.
Grabbing a towel and beginning to energetically wipe the bar, Dre said, “For years, I’ve been watching you hook up with the exact samephysical form, man, woman, or enby, over and over again. And I’m standing here, loving you, wanting you to be happy. I know you weren’t happy with me, I’m a mess and a giant pain in the ass. I get it. Butgoddamn, Pet. I draw the fucking line at that braindead biker twink.”
Seeing her friend’s real hurt, even if she didn’t understand what was happening, Petra calmed her tone. She went to Dre and set her hand on their back. They flinched.
It had been Petra who’d ended their romance, but until this moment, she’d believed that Dre truly understood—and agreed—that it hadn’t worked, and friendship was better. Sure, Petra felt a low buzz of jealousy when Dre was with someone else, but it was just a low buzz, like a memory of a time when she’d have been truly jealous.
She’d thought Dre was in the same place.
