I straighten with a muffled groan. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
He hikes a shoulder. “They just hang out all day, looking fine as fuck. Not good for conversation, though—unless you’re motorboating those fun bags. I had a point to make in there, but it got lost when I started thinking about tits.”
I barely listen to him, busying myself with palming the cold bottle Buck drops off. “Audria has the greatest set of cans.”
“Wouldn’t know,” he mutters.
“As you shouldn’t.” I swallow a mouthful of bitter fizz. Does this piss water even contain alcohol?
Gavin pastes on a smile wide enough to compete with a birthday clown. “Being a selfish prick doesn’t make you very popular.”
That trash doesn’t elicit a response. Besides, my wavering focus wobbles across the room, attempting to peel apart the clash of colors. The Salt Lick is far too noisy for a typical Tuesday afternoon. All the needless chatter is a vise against my temples.
I pinch my eyes shut. “Does Buck have holiday specials running, or why the fuck is it so crowded?”
“People are celebrating, like we should be.” His voice borders on nagging.
It might as well be nails on a chalkboard. That image makes me think of a classroom, which flashes to an image of Audria with a ruler. Dammit, why am I so obsessed? The liquor is diminishing my filter, or what’s left of it.
“This sucks worse than yesterday,” I drone.
My apparent friend claps me on the shoulder. “That’s all on you, man. You’re a serious fun sponge without my gal pal in tow.”
I give him the finger. I think it’s the middle one, at least. “Thanks, asshole.”
“See? Fucking grump. What’s your deal?”
I drain more of my Coors. “I don’t wanna discuss it.”
“We’re sitting at the bar, drinking beers, watching football replays. This is the time to talk,” he urges.
Gavin is like a brother to me. I’ve always been able to tell him anything. But these feelings are new and terrifying as fuck. I’m not sure I can trust him to listen without gloating and tossing out a few taunts for good measure. He makes a gruff noise, rolling his hand in a circular motion.
“Fucking fine. I miss her, okay?”
He pretends to fall asleep, snoring and all. “She’ll be back in five days. Keep your panties on.”
I tense, glaring at my beer. “Knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Don’t get salty.” His arm collars my neck with a yank.
I push him off me. “Then quit touching me.”
He sobers, returning to his personal space. “It’s more than missing her for sex, right? Did you catch feelings?”
Admitting that to him before I’ve even settled on it myself seems ridiculous. “No.”
“Liar.” He laughs.
“I’m so glad I chose to confide in you.”
Gavin tilts his beer to his lips. “Just spit out what you have to say, Colt.”
“Nothing,” I snarl. “You’re the one insisting we talk. I want no part of this gabfest.”
He slams the bottle down. “Too damn bad. We’re discussing your shitty attitude. I’ve never seen you this twisted over someone.”
“This is a preview of June, when she’s gone for good. You better get used to it.”
“Or you could give her a reason to stay.”
“She won’t,” I retort.
“And how do you know?” He pinches the bridge of his nose.
I wave my bottle toward the door. “Her life is in Minnesota, where she’s currently partying her little tail feathers off. She doesn’t even care that I’m here alone, missing her beautiful face.”
“How many beers have you had?”
I swing my gaze to the ceiling, trying to count. My vision is only fuzzy around the edges, which suggests I’m good to have plenty more. Gavin is my trusty sober cab this evening, after all.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m belly up,” I grumble. “She’s gonna leave me.”
“I wouldn’t blame her with this sad sap act you’re pulling.”
I pick at my bottle label. “Dude, I sang for her.”
A fact that’s been heating my blood ever since. The way her gaze stalked me on that stage made me feel like the richest man in the world. That type of wealth cannot be measured. But damn, do I want to be worthy of her.
The comedic grin slips from his mouth. “Holy shit, this is serious.”
I thrust a palm out, nearly smacking him in the jaw. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“In what universe? I can’t track your train of thought. Your sentence structures are poor at best. Let’s not get started on logical thinking.” He waves that off. “Never mind. I’m getting wasted off your fumes. Focusing is getting difficult, but okay, we’ve hit a breakthrough. You never let anyone hear you sing.”
“I’m aware,” I spout.
He smiles as a cheesy comeback. “Audria is your lobster, Colt.”
I blink through my bleary haze. “She’s my… lobster?”
“Don’t you get the reference?” His disgusted tone clues me in. The clang of utter appall rattles against my skull.
I roll my eyes so hard that my ass nearly falls off the stool. “No more of this Friends shit. Now is not the time.”
“It’s always the right time for Phoebe’s dating wisdom. Lobsters mate for life, genius. That’s all I’m trying to tell you.”
“Why can’t we be geese?”
“You hunt geese,” he deadpans.
“Which is why that has more meaning. I’ve been trying to capture Audria for months. Who’s catching lobsters in Iowa? No one. That’s a dumb analogy.” I’m pretty sure my expression is smug—or I look constipated. It could go either way.
Gavin huffs so loud that several people turn to stare at us. “And you’re a loser who doesn’t appreciate good television. Are you planning to mount her on the wall?”
“I’d prefer the bed, but sure. We can cover all the bases.” I snort into my beer. It’s not like we haven’t already.
“You’re a moron,” he chides.
“You can only call me so many names before running out of options.”
“I plan to stretch my creativity as long as you keep blubbering in circles.” He requests two waters when Buck passes us. The dude must be thirsty.
“Nothing is wrong with my talking.”
