CHAPTER 4
Quinn
Chad guides us to a semi-private area cordoned off from the rest of the venue.
It’s just beyond the bar on the balcony and has cabana-style seating, cream cushions, and gauzy curtains that sway with the night breeze.
Olive trees in oversized white pots stand against tall stone pillars, their leaves whispering whenever the air shifts.
“Stay as long as you want, baby,” Chad says, steering Sophie toward the loveseat. His hand brushes over her ass like it belongs there. She laughs a little too brightly, tugging at the hem of her dress as she sits. “Order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”
I slide into the seat opposite her, the soft fabric brushing the backs of my thighs, and grab the drink menu. Luckily, the cocktail list actually has ingredients I can pronounce. It’s a small win.
Tonight might be tolerable, I think, if the promise of decent alcohol holds.
“Couple of margs?” Sophie asks, twirling a strand of glossy hair around her finger. We exchange another one of those best-friend glances that says We might as well make the most of it. “Q, what about you?”
“Spicy marg, please,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel as Chad finally flicks his gaze toward me.
God, I hope Sophie’s right about their margaritas. Back when this was just a sticky sports bar, the drinks tasted like syrup and regret and were still overpriced.
“And I’ll have one too, darling. Thanks”
“Sure thing, baby girl.” Chad winks and struts away from the booth. “Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone.”
Ugh. Pet names. My skin crawls with second-hand embarrassment.
As soon as he’s gone, I look across the booth at Sophie. “Who, what, when, and where? Spill.”
“Ugh, I’ve tried my best to forget.” She exhales, tracing the rim of her water glass. “Chadon Yates. Once. Maybe twice. Last year, I think.” Her cheeks colour. “In the back of his BMW convertible.”
“Sophie!” I shake my head in mock outrage. “How could you keep this from me?”
She hesitates. “Oh, I tried to message you last year, but you stopped replying. I figured my dramas would just annoy you, especially with everything you had going on.” Her gaze drops to the table, long lashes shadowing her eyes. “And I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“I’m so sorry, Soph.” Heat creeps up my neck as I pick at the skin near my nail until it stings. “I wish I could go back and not be such a shit friend.”
We’d drifted, and I hadn’t realised how much it had cost her. I was too wrapped in my own self-destruction to see. Soph deserved so much more than the friend I was back then.
“Don’t worry so much about the past. I’ve been the shitty friend plenty of times over the last fourteen years. It evens out.”
She’d tried to be there when everything collapsed, when my life was already in flames and then turned to ash. She continued to reach out when everyone else stopped. I just wish I’d answered.
But Sophie never presses. Maybe one day I’ll be able to say it all out loud, but for now, there’s nothing better than a couple of drinks to keep the memories dulled.
“Hey, we’re okay now.” She smiles reassuringly at me. “Also, I’m going to find you a guy. Love of your life, or at least someone hot. Whichever comes first.” She makes a show of eyeing the crowd for prospects.
“No way. Not tonight.” I huff, crossing my arms, “Girls’ night, remember?”
“Yeah, but that was before the unlimited bar tab. And I know you don’t like Chad, but maybe he’s got a friend you’d actually be into.”
I doubt it. Sophie falls for men obsessed with mirrors. I used to fall for the easy-going ones. Now? I don’t think I have a type anymore.
“And when was the last time you even had sex?” she presses.
“The other—”
“Your vibrator doesn’t count.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Hey, at least my vibe gets the job done.”
The last thing I need is to stumble home with some self-absorbed stranger who’d rub the inside of my left lip, asking me “if it felt good.”
The only one-night stand I ever had became a long-term mistake.
Chad returns balancing a tray, setting my margarita down without looking at me. At this point, I may as well be one of the potted trees flanking our table. Still, as long as the drinks keep coming, I’ll take it.
He slides in beside Sophie, brushing her arm as he hands over her glass, then leans in to whisper something.
She catches my gaze and rolls her eyes, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a laugh.
I can’t wait to hear what he said later.
Here we go—another long night of playing third wheel.
I grip my drink, condensation slick against my palm, and study the leather menu cover, tracing the ridges with a fingertip.
Anything to avoid watching Chad paw at my friend.
I take a healthy sip, then another, and Sophie was right. It’s one of the best spicy margs I’ve ever had.
My attention drifts to the last few inches of liquid circling lazily in the glass. The noise and chatter fade, my focus zeroing in on the slow swirl until footsteps approach.
“Chad, I need you to sign off on something,” a deep voice says, smooth and resonant, carrying easily over the hum of the bar.
“Can’t it wait, man? I’m busy,” Chad snaps, all but nuzzling into the crook of Sophie’s neck.
Great. I thought he didn’t have any friends. Guess I was wrong.
I keep my gaze fixed on the pool of condensation on the table, bracing for some smug clone, probably named Brad. Chad would just love to rhyme with his “bros.” I stir the drink with my straw, praying whoever it is ignores me so I can wallow a little longer without having to make awkward small talk.
“Hey, I’m Sophie, and this is Quinn.” Sophie’s heel nudges mine under the table, a not-so-subtle prompt to acknowledge the newcomer.
I sigh, bracing for arrogance and an ego to rival Chad’s.
When I finally look up, sharp green eyes catch mine. My breath hitches, heart tripping once, twice, a thud echoing in my ears as the rest of the bar fades to the periphery.
“Hi.” His voice is low, steady. Carrying a warmth that seems to nestle in my chest. “I’m Cole.”