I nod, trying to look more sympathetic than I’m feeling. If he had asked me, the woman was a right nutto. But no one asked me, so…
“Got that much. But look!” I inject some surprised enthusiasm in my voice as I gesture around us. “This place is full of hot women who aren’t bitches!”
Emerson makes a noncommittal sound, not that I blame him. Just a quick glance around this packed place found at least 20 gorgeous women… and zero interest from me.
I scowl.
Normally, by now, I’d already have scoped out my first choice for the night… and the second …and the third.
Who knows what the fuck is up with me.
Just then, Jax comes back from the bar. He gives Emerson a sympathetic nod. “I heard what happened—sorry about that.”
“See?” I tell my baby brother. “Jax here also has terrible taste in women. You two have so much in common!”
Two angry glares go at me.
“It’s not like your own taste in women is anything other than questionable,” Jax points out, running his hand through his red hair as he keeps on glaring at me. “Didn’t that one chick try to rob you?”
“She did rob me,” I inform him indignantly. “My best Rolex, too.”
He shrugs, his point proven.
“Anyway.” I try to smile with pleasant patience at the two buzzkills. “That’s not why we’re here. We’re here to forgot our troubles, whatever or whoever they may be. So—first shot’s on me!”
The second one ends up being on me too, and the third. By the fourth, I’ve pulled them onto the dance floor, while some good future house mix has everyone grooving, and gotten Emerson a distraction for tonight. She’s short, with gorgeous copper skin, slightly buggy eyes, and curvy as hell.
She’s even got a lookalike friend who’s laughing way too hard at all my jokes that I would normally be all over, except for tonight.
For whatever reason.
Then, just as Jax finds his own willowy blonde to cheer him up, mine starts grinding on me, and I make some unlikely excuse and leave. Not for good, just to get some air.
Outside, I lounge at the curb and glare at the dark flower shop storefront across the street.
What the fuck is up with me tonight?
“Nolan,” a familiar voice says.
“You actually came,” I say, seeing who it is.
“I actually came,” Landon repeats, looking as surprised about it as I am, with his hands shoved into his leather jacket coat pockets. “How’s Emerson doing?” he asks, glancing at the club.
Another future house song with a great beat echoes out to us.
“Great, actually,” I tell Landon. “You should see this girl he’s pulled. Gorgeous.”
Landon nods. “Guess that’s something. Normally, I’d say give it time, but it seems this Malinda really did a number on his head.”
“You mean Maggie,” I tell him.
“Nah, she was definitely named Malinda,” he says. “Although you can’t be blamed for not remembering her name, since the woman refused to meet any of us. That should’ve been warning sign #1.
“And you?” he adds before I can respond.
I eye him. “What do you mean, and me?”
He raises his eyebrows with a shrug. “Normally you’d be right in there with them, with your own girl or two for the night. Instead you’re out here, looking glum. Why?”
I shrug. “Guess my twindar kicked in and I sensed your nearness, so I came out here to meet with you.”
He snorts. “Really, now.”
“Really now.” I throw a hand to my chest and continue on in a woo-woo voice. “When will you accept that our connection is celestial, eternal…”
Landon just shakes his head. “Cut the shit.”
I glare at him. “Fine, have it your way.”
We stand there, out in the cool, out with the smokers, and some far-off wino calling to someone who’s not there. The smoke still has a bit of a beckon to me—I used to be a pack-a-day-er way back when, although it’s been a long time since I kicked the habit.
Some things you never get over completely, though.
“So,” he says.
“It’s just an off night,” I say. “Happens to the best of us.”
“Oh yeah?”
I throw him a derisive look. “You here to be my psych or my brother? We’re supposed to be here for Emerson, anyway.”
He shrugs. “Sounds like he doesn’t need us. Anyway, I’m just telling it how I see it.”
“And how I see it is…” I trail off. Who the fuck am I kidding? There’s no harm in saying it, anyway. “It’s just this girl I met. It’s not going to go anywhere, but I just thought… she seemed really cool. And then I found out I couldn’t trust her.”
He swings a sidelong assessing gaze my way. “You got robbed again?”
“No!” I sputter indignantly. “Why does everyone always remember that?”
“Because the way you told it was funny?” Landon says with a shrug. “Crazy skinny little emo white girl ends up beating you up when you’re smashed and stealing your Rolex after you fucked.”