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A bottle of whiskey sat on the counter. It was a shit brand but would do the trick.
“Is that really a question?” Watty replied.
“And we should have a party tonight,” I told them. “Who’s down?”
They were all in agreement. I’d have a good time tonight. I’d forget about the shit with my dad and maybe even find someone to hook up with so I could stop obsessing over Braxton Walker.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brax
His fist and the ocean.
There was no doubt it was for me, and every time I looked at it…I smiled. Like, really smiled, and the fact that I could say every time when it came to thinking about his post spoke for itself.
I would not look at it again because what was the point? The thing wouldn’t change. This whole situation was becoming more and more unnerving.
The bar was busy tonight. Gwen was working too. I liked being on shift with her. She’d changed her hair again, this time to green.
Every time the door opened, I found myself glancing that direction. It wasn’t because I hoped Ty would show up. Clearly, I didn’t, but I liked to know if my night was going to take a trip down the toilet, was all. That often happened when he was around with his friends.
Or maybe my dumb ass wished he would come in so I could mention the posts.
But none of the lacrosse team showed up, and I’d only checked my phone to see if they’d won so I knew what to expect. They almost always made an appearance if they had something to brag about.
They’d won, though, and of course, all the talk was about Ty. Ty scoring the winning point. Ty’s defense. Tyson Langley, Tyson Langley, Tyson Langley. The universe hated me.
“I need three Midori sours, please,” a girl said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Also, you’re hot.”
I chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m gay.”
She groaned. “All the hot ones are.”
She was cool and chatted with me while I made her drinks. Two friends joined her just as I gave her the change.
“Thank you, hot guy!”
When I heard a chuckle, I looked over and saw Chris, this stoner guy I’d done edibles with once. He pushed his dirty-blond hair behind his ear, but it fell forward again. “That happen to you a lot?”
“You know how it is.” I shrugged, then reached up and massaged the tight muscles in my right shoulder.
“If you want, you should head over to the massage school. I can help you work that out.” He nodded toward me with a laid-back smile. I used to think he was flirting when he said stuff like that, but I didn’t think he was. It was just Chris. He was chill like that.
“Nah, not really my thing. Thanks, though.”
“No worries. I just thought I’d offer.” He took a drink of his beer, and when someone on stage started singing, turned to listen.
“Since we have a little lull,” Gwen said, “do you want to take your break now?” There were three bartenders there, so if Gwen got busy, she’d have backup.
I headed toward the back so I could chill outside.
“’Sup?” SpongeBob said, and I gave him a quick up nod on my way out.
This time, when I accidentally on purpose found myself on Ty’s Instagram page, there was a video. One click showed him in the middle of a packed house, drink in hand, dancing, his eyes slightly glazed over and a dopey smile on his face. Seemed they’d decided to keep the party at their house instead of coming to Shenanigans.
A guy I recognized approached him. Steve. We had Data Structures and Algorithms together last year. He was also the head of FU’s LGBTQ Club, so my hackles rose automatically. “Wanna dance?” he asked Ty, just as Ty mumbled, “Oh shit,” and his phone tumbled out of his hand. He picked it up and ended the video.
My gut tightened, this strange feeling twisting around in there, almost like I was the one who’d had too much to drink and my stomach disagreed with it. Jesus Christ, was I jealous that Ty might hook up with some random guy from class? If I had to even ask myself that question, the answer was clear.
I closed the app.
I could do this. I wasn’t jealous. I didn’t like Ty. He could fuck whomever he wanted. Stupid, annoying jock.
I forced myself not to look at my phone and eventually went back inside for my shift. My phone was calling to me from my pocket, a quiet whisper of, Check me. Open Instagram.
It was almost midnight when I looked at my phone again, pulled up the stupid fucking app, and saw multiple photos…of the star-dotted sky, the dark ocean, his feet in the sand. The last one was a shot down the beach. In the distance, I could see the corner of a sign. He didn’t get the words or the building or anything, but I recognized it right away. The caption on the post read: Peekaboo, and I knew it was for me. Shit.
