Chapter Twenty I Know What I Like #2
“I’m just giving options,” he says.
“I’ve got it.” I almost tack on Daddy, but even my drunk brain knows that’s horrific and mortifying, and honestly the fact that I even thought it makes me duck my head again.
I look up as the bartender approaches, just in time to say, “Two waters.”
“Two?” Griffin asks.
“Well, you look parched too.”
He clears his throat but doesn’t answer.
“Well, you do!” I continue. “You keep licking your lips and swallowing and clearing your throat, just like—there!—you just did!”
Griffin tongues his cheek. “You’re noticing a lot of things about me tonight, B.”
Yes, I’m noticing that his mouth is beautiful. Thick pink lips hidden behind a well-kept beard. Beau never could grow a beard.
I lift my chin. “That’s why I got you water. Y’know, Griffin, I think you need someone to take care of you.”
“Do I, now?”
“Absolutely. You’re looking out for me and for Ava, and I see the way you look at your friends. You love them. Well, I’m gonna be looking out for you.”
He chuckles. “I appreciate that, but what can a five-foot blond girl do for me?”
“Make you less thirsty.”
“Oh.” He says it slowly, as if wistful. “Probably not.”
“Do you want bourbon?”
“Why bourbon?”
“You were drinking that on our first date. I mean, dinner. Dinner.”
Griffin smiles. “You can call it a date, if you want.”
I ignore him because that seems smart right now. “So, bourbon?”
“Just water is fine.”
“Three waters!” I call with my hand in the air, but Griffin tugs my arm down with a laugh.
I lean on the bar with my elbow, gazing into Griffin’s beautiful brown eyes until Poe comes up and stumbles right into the bar, clotheslining his own stomach.
“Ooh,” Griffin and I say at the same time, squinting like we’re witnessing a wrestling match between Poe and the bar.
Poe, undeterred by pain, asks, “More shots?”
“I, uh…” I straighten my posture. “No, I don’t think so.”
Griffin gives another half smile. But Poe leans his head on the counter, and Griffin’s expression falls.
“Poe, you all right, man?”
“Yeah, I just need…hmm…do you want some fun history facts? I can give any you want. I’ve read so much. Wars? Cowboys? Rooomance?” He croons the last one.
Griffin pats his arm. “Maybe later, Poe.”
Poe’s eyes squint. “Do you know where the toilets are? Is that—” He points to a random corner with an Exit sign.
“Other way.” Griffin takes Poe’s arms and turns him in the opposite direction.
“Ugh. Show me, Griffy.”
Griffin lets out a long sigh, swiveling his eyes to me.
“What?” I ask.
“Ohh,” Poe says. “He’s making sure you’re safe, darling. He’s very protective. This”—he gestures to the space between me and Griffin—“will be hard when he goes on tour in a month.”
My hands tingle as Griffin clears his throat again. We really need that water.
I lean on the counter to call the bartender again, but he arrives with the two waters before bustling off down the opposite end of the bar.
“Toilet,” Poe whines. “Show me the way, O Griffin.”
Maybe he’s Ava tonight instead of me, and Griffin is the dad watching over us all. Boy, Griffin Harvey needs a night off.
Griffin shifts on his barstool and peers at me again, concern laced through every line on his face.
“I’ll be fine!” The last word drags out. I even tack on my Bernie Bird voice to say, “Not a big deal!”
Poe bursts out a laugh. “She’s funny, Griff. So, so funny. I think I peed a little.”
“All right, let’s find you a restroom.” Griffin then eyes me. “Do not move, ya hear me, Lark?”
I flush. I think I like it when he calls me by my last name.
“But what if—”
“I’m serious,” he says. So stern. “Stay right here.”
“But how do I know you’ll come back?”
Griffin huffs out an exhausted laugh, rolls his eyes, and removes his Bee Gees necklace—the one just above his patch of chest hair peeking out from his white shirt. He holds it out and lets it pool down into the creases of my palms. “I’ll come back for this, all right?”
“Is it special to you?”
His eyes dart between mine. “Yeah. So take care of it, deal?”
“Deal.”
With one last glance, Griffin finally escorts Poe away, elbowing past a crowd of people and disappearing into a side hallway with a restroom. For the next minute, I attempt to secure the necklace around my own neck until it clasps.
The music is very loud. The song’s beat pounds through my chest. The bar top is like a crutch I’m clinging on to as I look around, seeking out other people’s conversations but unable to hear anything beyond the booming music.
Time feels like it’s passing slowly. Am I doomed to wait at this bar forever? Is Griffin ever coming back? Maybe I should go find him.
No.
He told me to wait. I trust him.
But God, it’s so boring, and it feels like every passing moment gets hazier, and I can feel an itch tickling my stomach. I think I drank too much.
“Funny seeing you here.”
That tickle in my stomach transforms into an unpleasant twist as a very familiar voice whispers in my ear. Next thing I know, Beau slides into the exact bar seat Griffin was occupying earlier.
Beau is in the same well-fitted tux from the award ceremony, sans the jacket. He always looked good in semiformal. Off-duty formal, I guess. Not as good as Griffin, though.
“I didn’t believe them when they told me,” Beau says.
“Who? Told you what?”
He doesn’t answer. “You look good.” His eyes shamelessly scour over me, from Griffin’s necklace over my collarbones, to the low-cut square neckline, and then the slit up the side of my skirt. He doesn’t look embarrassed when I catch him. “That dress looks impeccable on you.”
My body is both cold and hot at the same time. Shivers explode over my skin.
“I’m taken,” I blurt out.
Beau’s jaw tics. “So I’ve heard. How’s the family liking Griffin, anyway? Nana must love his long hair, huh?”
Even through the purple-and-blue haze of the bar and my bubbling mind, I can sense sarcasm. Senior year, Beau grew out his hair to his chin, and Nana wouldn’t stop calling him a ragamuffin, which I think is a type of cat, but I don’t know.
“Steak likes him,” I say.
Beau scoffs with a smile. “That cat doesn’t like anybody.”
“He likes Griff, though.” Well, technically he likes Ava, but we don’t talk about Ava. “Also, I’ve never once called him Griff in my life.”
“Uh-huh.” He tilts his head to the side with a little smile.
Griffin might not have been admiring me earlier—I’m not sure—but I know for a fact Beau is right now.
I’ve known him for so long that, even after being broken up for two years, I can still recognize every twitch of his lips or narrowing of his eyes.
I know him as intimately as I know myself.
He wasn’t always this version of Beau. He was kind once. He lived with my family when his didn’t support him. We took him in, and it felt seamless between us. Easy. And now…he’s sarcastic. Mean.
“We’re in a relationship, you know,” I say again. “Griffin and me. Griffin and I.”
Beau nods, leaning over to rest his elbow on the counter. He tucks his chin into his palm. “You’ve mentioned that.”
Beau squints a little, like he’s parsing through my brain to get to the squishy good stuff. The soft stuff that’ll make him laugh, and I could always make him laugh up until I couldn’t.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asks, and it’s sweet. No haughty air from his new fame clouding it. It’s like we’re seventeen again. “We haven’t talked in forever.”
I snort, unashamed as I say, “Because you called me names.”
“I called you names?” he asks on an incredulous laugh.
“ ‘Social climber’? Remember that one? In the video?”
His face is stone, and he looks almost sorry about it. Is he?
“Come on,” he says, dipping his head. “You know I didn’t mean that. It was a tough day; I was tired from recording…”
“We broke up after.”
“My career had just exploded.”
“I’m taken,” I repeat.
He smiles. “You know, you say it enough times, I might actually believe you, Bev.”
I sigh. He sighs. He’s good at this, making this feel like home. Like we’re on the porch with the rocking chairs, a summer breeze, and stolen beers from my dad’s cooler. We only bantered like this when I was drunk, unbound by the flowing alcohol in my veins. It’s when Beau admired me the most.
But we’re not in Elk Grove, and we’re not seventeen. Instead, we’re in a club / bar / dancing place in LA, and he’s dyed his beautiful ginger hair a dull brown, and I’m in a dress that’s way too tight.
“Let me text you sometime,” he says.
My head jerks back. “What?”
“Let’s talk. We haven’t talked in a while. Remember how we used to stay up late talking? For hours. We timed it once, didn’t we?”
“Stop, I—”
“Hey, baby.” Rough, calloused hands wrap around my waist. And the bit of butterfly tingling in my chest for Beau turns into full-on eagle wings when Griffin slides in, taking a seat on the barstool behind me. “Got you some coffee.”
He places a small paper cup on the bar top, steam sizzling out of the lid.
“You did?” I ask.
“Oh, hey. It’s you…again,” Griffin says dully to Beau.
Beau stretches his lips in an insincere straight line. “And it’s you.”
“And me!” Poe stumbles between us, bumping into Beau and landing on me. I stagger back and fall onto Griffin’s lap.
Griffin grunts, catching my waist in his palms as I land on his thick thighs. My heart leaps into my throat. His muscles are harder than I expected, and his chest is larger when it’s directly behind me like this. His beard brushes over my cheek. His breath is in my ear.
Poe drunkenly apologizes to me, touching my forearms and then running a palm over my cheek with familiarity.
“It’s all right, man,” Griffin says, politely taking Poe’s hands and removing them from me. There’s care laced into it but also a slight threat. Definitive adjustments that can’t be questioned.
Over Poe’s shoulder, Beau’s eyes dart from me to Griffin.
Yeah, get jealous, ya tool.
Drunk Beverly is vengeful.
I take Griffin’s hands from my hips and wrap his arms fully around my body.
We’re together, Beau. So suck it.
Drunk Beverly is also really enjoying Griffin’s hard lap.