But I’m not going to begrudge her making a connection with the guy. I’m happy for her. And I’m happy to be out with a group and enjoying life outside of Max Fletcher’s bubble.
Sure, Jeff doesn’t give me that warm, gooey sensation whenever he looks at me. But I’m having a nice time with him, and that should count for something.
This is exactly what I needed to get my mind off Max. I just had to put myself out there and remind myself I am capable of flirting and finding a summer fling without crazy mind games. This is the kind of shit you do on a gap year!
“Jeff, I have to ask you a strange question,” I blurt out, taking a sip of my drink.
“I love your strange questions,” he muses and sips his IPA beer.
I lean forward and run my finger along his brow line, my eyes marveling at how perfectly shaped they are. With a giggle, I ask, “Are your eyebrows natural, or do you use a serum because I’ve never seen such full eyebrows in my entire life.”
His shoulders shake, and he nearly falls off the stool with a bizarre silent laugh. He presses a hand to his chest, and his voice is high-pitched when he cries, “What the fuck is a serum?”
“Like something that makes eyebrows grow thicker!” I reply, laughing hysterically at his comedic reaction.
His smiling eyes widen. “People actually want big eyebrows?”
My nose wrinkles as I chuckle. “Yes. Seriously, if you’re using a product, fess up because you have the most stunning brows I’ve ever seen on a man or a woman!”
He props his elbow on the bar and covers his face, still in stitches over the topic of our conversation. He’s obviously drunk, but it’s cute, and I live to amuse.
He wipes some errant tears out of his eyes and sighs loudly. “You are one of a kind, Cozy Barlow.”
“I’ve been getting that a lot these days,” I murmur as Max’s annoyingly handsome face invades my thoughts.
A clammy hand lands on my bare leg, and I look over to see Jeff no longer smiling. In fact, his face has grown super serious. His eyes are hooded and locked on my lips. “I’m so glad this is finally happening, Cozy.”
“What do you mean?” I try to laugh to lighten the mood.
He hiccups and glances down at my chest. “You and me. A redo.”
“A re-what?” My back straightens with his forced proximity.
“I was so awkward in high school. So inexperienced.” He closes his eyes and shakes off the obvious embarrassment before resuming really intense eye contact. “You would have been my first, you know.”
My head jerks at his sharp vibe change. I look over my shoulder to see Dakota walking toward the bathroom while Randal is scrolling on his phone. Guess I’m stuck here alone with a drunk Jeff who wants to have a walk down memory lane. Jesus. I need to get control of this conversation.
I heartily pat Jeff on the shoulder, hoping I’m giving out platonic friendship vibes because that is most certainly all I want from him. “I was awkward too, Jeff. But you were cool and a total gentleman.”
His head bobs up and down. “I’m not so much of a gentleman anymore.”
“Oh?” My nose wrinkles.
He licks his lips and leans in close, the skunky scent of his beer wafting over my face as he murmurs, “I’ve learned a thing or two since junior prom.”
Suddenly, his damp palm inches up my thigh, and I slap my hand over his to stop its pursuit. I’m just about to tell him this isn’t happening when a large body presses up against him.
“Your cab is here, pal,” a deep voice utters, and my eyes nearly pop out of my head when I see Max’s broad frame standing beside Jeff. He grabs Jeff’s hand firmly and yanks it off my leg before helping him up out of his stool.
“My cab?” Jeff’s immaculate brow furrows in confusion as he looks at me. “Are we leaving, Cozy?”
A weird chirping sound emits from my lips because I can’t find any words to make sense of this situation.
“Not her. Just you. I’m afraid the bartender insisted. She’s sorry for overserving you.”
Jeff shakes his head, voicing his denial, “You think I’m too drunk?”
“Yes, we do,” Max answers, placing a hand around Jeff’s back to lead him toward the door. “We thank you for stopping in, but we’d appreciate your cooperation. We wouldn’t want to get the police involved for disorderly conduct.”
“The fuzz?” Jeff bellows, gripping the sides of his head. “No, no, no, no. Don’t call the cops. I’m in law school, bro. I can’t have a criminal record.” His voice cracks on the end as he adds, “Plus, my mom will kill me if I’m dropped off at home by a cop.”