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“Yeah?” I mumbled.
“I hope you’re up for a fun night.” Milo’s voice echoed through the Bluetooth.
“A fun night,” I repeated, shifting the truck into drive, taking one last glance at Madeline’s house. “You know I’m poor, right?”
“I got you covered. We’re meeting up with Elliot.” I couldhearhis eyebrows wiggle.
I heaved a sigh. I had met Elliot once in college while he worked with Milo as an EMT, but we obviously didn't make an effort to become friends. If it weren't for Milo, I would have never met the man. But now that we were both a part of Milo’s wedding, we would be getting to know each other, and in all honesty, that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I rolled my eyes, giving in to him.
“Okay, what time?”
Not to anyone's surprise, Milo took me to a bar. A semi-nicer one, where a live band was playing mainly country covers. Though the band was decent, this definitely was not my kind of music. I didn’t recognize anyone on stage, but Milo smiled as we found a table. I followed him, keeping my focus on the crowd and maneuvering to the small round table Milo had snagged.
“Did you know there was a live band tonight?” I asked once we sat down.
Milo waved to a waitress, who gave him a flirty smile and came over to us, a drink carrier in hand with no drinks on it. I rolled my eyes.
“Just remember, you’re getting married,” I commented.
Milo glared over at me. “Do you want a drink or not?” he snapped.
I raised my eyebrows and shut my mouth, leaning into my chair, folding my arms over my chest. As much as I was trying to be sarcastic, there were no two people who fit better together than Milo and Madeline. The glare from Milo stung. He didn’t think my “joke” was very funny. He blinked, wiping the glare from his eyes as he turned to the waitress who was approaching.
“Three house drafts, please,” Milo ordered, another smile came from the blonde waitress. “Stop being an idiot. Besides, you could talk to her.”
I shrugged. “Not my type.”
“Wasn’t Rebecca a blonde?” Milo noted.
I glared at him. “No, she was a brunette,” I grumbled. “Again, blondes aren’t my type.”
“Oh, right,” Milo shouted as another country song picked up. “Only Ophelia is your type.”
The waitress showed back up and placed three beers on the table. Milo grabbed his beer and wiggled his eyebrows.
“How was seeing her today?” he asked, setting his beer back down after a long swig.
“Fine, before I pissed her off.”
“What did you say this time?”
I furrowed my brow and shook my head. “She’s just not going to let go of what happened.”
“Did you expect her to?” Milo pinched his brow and locked gazes with me.
I shook my head, letting that be my only answer to his question, and leaned on the table, grabbing my beer to take a pull. “So, where’s Elliot?” I asked, changing the subject.
Milo let out a laugh and then pointed to the stage. On the stage the band started singing the Ed Sheeran song “Castle on a Hill.”The more I paid attention to them, the more the lead singer began to look oddly familiar. His brown hair was sticking up in all different directions most likely from being pushed back more than a few times, and his acoustic guitar hung around his neck. He was really into the song, singing with his eyes closed, every now and then his scruff hitting the mic but he never took notice. I made a face and returned to Milo.
“That’s Elliot?” I asked, pointing to the singer.
Milo nodded. “He’s almost done with his set and then he’ll join us.”
“Was he always a singer?”
Milo nodded again, looking back at his friend. “Oh, yeah, he kept things interesting on overnight shifts.”
