AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m what? I’m not here with Graham. I’m here, and Graham is here. Sure, I came with him, but not like a date or anything, even if I do like the thought of it.
“Oh,” Brett says, holding up his hands. “You’re with Graham?” He turns toward me.
“I . . . no, I’m—”
“She is,” Graham says, cutting me off.
“Uh—”
“Well, she didn’t say she was with anyone,” Brett says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone, his body turning fully toward Graham.
I hold a finger up. “See—”
“She’s a nice person,” Graham interjects. “She didn’t know how to let you down easy.” He takes a step toward Brett.
Okay, that’s actually kind of true. How did he know that?
“Or maybe you’re not memorable enough for her to mention?” Brett says, inching closer to Graham.
They’ve squared off now, like two cowboys about to have a showdown. What’s happening? Do I even need to be here? I feel like this isn’t about me anymore.
“Here you go,” Charlotte says, setting two drinks down on the bar. I turn toward her with a questioning what-should-I-do face, and her eyes move to Graham and Brett, who now look to be in a staring contest. She doesn’t say anything, just rolls her eyes like this isn’t the first time she’s seen them like this, and she walks back down to the other side of the bar without doing anything.
“Thanks for the drink, Brett,” I say to him, deciding to do something. That seems to snap him out of whatever standoff had started. He looks at me like he wants to say something, but I just grab Graham’s arm and give him a little nudge and a head tip toward our table, where I see Ryan and Morgan have been watching this whole thing.
Graham releases his folded arms, and in a quick move, he grabs the hand that was on his arm and wraps his own around it, the feel of which sends a chill that runs from the top of my neck down to the bottom of my spine.
I don’t have time to grab my drink before Graham walks me back to the table.
“What was that all about?” Morgan asks as Graham lets go of my hand and, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair he was sitting in, starts to put it on.
“We’re leaving,” he says, determination on his face.
“We?” I ask him.
“I hate this place,” he says, grabbing my puffy coat and handing it to me.
I take it from him, but I don’t put it on. “What was that all about?” I repeat Morgan’s question. “I take it you have a history with him?” I look at the bar to see Brett has his back toward us, his drink in hand.
“Yes, and he’s not the kind of guy you should be talking to.”
I don’t know why, because I was thinking the same thing myself, but it rankles when Graham says it. Maybe it’s because he sounds just like Kyle. I already have a protective older brother—who ironically has warned me about the man standing in front of me. I don’t need another person taking on the job.
“I think I’m old enough to decide that for myself, Graham.”
He flinches at that, and I realize that I rarely call him solely by his first name. It’s usually his full name, or Doctor. It felt weird to say.
He reaches up and runs a hand down his face. “I ... know. You are. That guy is a ... player.”
“I gathered that myself,” I say and then roll my lips inward, giving him a derisive glare.
He looks at me, his eyes roaming up and down my face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was out of line. I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
I will not read into that. At least not right now. But I definitely will later.
“And neither did I,” I say.
I was going to do something about it; I just didn’t know what that was until Graham showed up.
