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“You didn’t tell me you had a thing for Graveyard Lucy.”
“I don’t have a thing for her.”
“Really? That’s why you walked over there and practically stared down her date?”
I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “I don’t have a thing for her. I just . . .”
Alex chokes on his drink and his eyes suddenly start to widen. He’s looking over my shoulder toward Lucy’s table and I turn around, wondering why he looks like he’s about to either throw up or laugh.
Lucy says something to Noah before pushing her chair back and standing up. The blonde stands with her and says something to try to get her to sit back down. Lucy grabs her purse and shakes her head before her eyes scan the restaurant, until they meet mine. And I can’t help myself, I grin and lift my hand.
“Yeah,” Alex mutters, “youdefinitelydon’t have a thing for her.”
Lucy walks over to me and smiles shyly. “Hey,”
“Hey.” I smile.
“Hey.” Alex leans around me, offering his hand. “I’m Alex, Wyatt’s best friend.”
Lucy laughs and takes his hand. “Hi Alex, Wyatt’s best friend.”
“You know, every time you immediately introduce yourself as my best friend, it makes me like you a little less.”
“Your opinion of me really doesn’t matter anymore, man. I’m like a fungus you’ve had too long—impossible to get rid of without medical supervision.”
Lucy laughs again and sits down beside me.
“How long have you been best friends?” she asks, eyebrows raised.
“Since middle school when Alex took a punch for me,” I say without hesitation.
“What he meant to say is, since middle school when Wyatt shoved me in front of him tounwillinglytake a punch meant for him,” Alex corrects me.
“That sounds like an interesting story.” Lucy puts her elbow on the bar and rests her chin in the palm of her hand.
“It’s kind of a long story. Don’t you have friends to get back to?” I ask.
Alex mutters something under his breath about my lack of subtlety but I ignore him, my eyes never leaving Lucy’s. She shakes her head slowly, her eyes glued to mine.
“Nope,” she says. “I’m suddenly free for the night.”
“Alex”—I grin—“tell her the story of our friendship.”
Alex, like the best friend and wonderful wing man that he is, clears his throat and leans forward so he can look at Lucy.
“It all started in the seventh grade on a cold and rainy November day,” he begins.
“It was August, dude,” I interject.
“It all started in the seventh grade on a warm and sunnyAugustday,” Alex continues easily. “Wyatt and I were thrown together because of where our last names were alphabetically, and since it was middle school, we still had seating charts based on where our names fell in the alphabet. Thus, Alex Gardner and Wyatt Hayes were stuck sitting together in homeroom, and a few other classes. I had just moved here from Virginia and didn’t know anyone except the lanky and awkward kid sitting behind me. And, like most seventh-grade boys, I just kind of followed him around most of the day. Wyatt was a good guy to follow, he knew where all my classes were, and we had the same lunch. So, when PE came around, I thought it’d be fine to stick with him then, too.”
“You were lanky and awkward?” Lucy asks me.
“Shh, pay attention to the story.” I point to Alex and wink.
“Thank you. Anyway, what I didn’t know was that Wyatt has this annoying habit of saying whatever comes into his idiotic brain. And he says it loudly and unapologetically. So, when a random kid comes up to us and starts picking on Wyatt because of his worn-out shoes, Wyatt looks him dead in the eyes and says, ‘You probably shouldn’t talk crap about shoes your mom picked out for me,’ and then proceeds to grab my skinny arm and pull me in front of him while the other kid rears back and punches me square in the jaw.”
Lucy’s hand flies up to her mouth to cover her laugh, but her eyes are crinkled in the corners and her shoulders are shaking. Alex winks at me and I grin.
