Page 48 of Outspoken

“Hey, you’re familiar,” Ashley says, pushing toward Miguel. “Have we met?”

He straightens beside me and says quickly, “I don’t think so.”

The cup is heavy in my hand, weighing on my thoughts. It’s hard to focus on anything else.

Ashley points, sloshing her drink. “Yeah, um, when was it? At a party? Yeah, Amber, you were there. In the kitchen.” She pokes Miguel's arm. “And I met your friend. Tall. Dark. Great kisser. What was his name? Oh, um, Du—”

“Must be someone else,” Miguel cuts in, clearly agitated by her presence.

Ashley usually has that effect on people.

I’m still too consumed with thoughts of my drink to pay much attention. Booze and soda are a classic mix—easy to chug, so it gets you buzzed quicker.

Ashley elbows me and I snap from my daze.

I glare at her. “What are you rambling about?”

“Come on. Don’t you remember, like, six years ago when we went to—”

“Think I’m hungry again,” Miguel says abruptly, touching my shoulder. “You know me—I always need food. Let’s try more food trucks.”

Ashley steps back, suddenly aware that she's intruding. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Have fun. You two look cute together.” She leans closer to whisper to me, “Sorry. Not trying to block you gettin’ it in. I’m gonna find that guy, but let’s hang out soon, okay?”

“Sure. Bye.” I turn with Miguel and walk away.

As soon as I reach a trash can, I ditch the cup, my face hot from knowing Miguel even saw me holding booze. He probably thinks I came here to get drunk.

Typical Amber. Sloppy, Wasted, Suicidal Amber.

Whatever.Heshouldsee me this way. He needs to know I always return to my default state. It would be exhausting to be in a relationship with me. Hell, I’m exhausted with myself.

Even with those thoughts, I blurt out, “I wasn’t drinking. She handed me her drink earlier but I tossed it.”

I’m rewarded with a flash of dimple and his warm, soothing gaze. “I believe you.”

I cross my arms, refusing to let his words flow deep enough to touch my heart. I want to tell him he shouldn’t believe me—that I’m going to fuck up one of these days—but I’m done talking about goddamn booze for now.

We visit a few more trucks, and we don’t say much, only eat. He stays close to me but still seems interested in everything else. I hate this new chasm between us and I don’t know how it opened. I don’t know how to close it. I don’t know why I want to close it when it’s best for us to stay apart.

Finally, he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to me with a smile. “Well, I have to head out.”

I nod, staring at the grass.

“You’re heading out too, aren’t you?”

I consider going back to find Ashley, but why? She’s already drunk, and she’ll only get me drunk, because that’s what she does. I've resisted temptation twice today, so it’ll be too depressing if I give in. It’s also getting a bit chilly and I don't have my jacket.

I rub my arms for warmth. “Yeah, I’m leaving.”

He walks with me to the parking lot in silence. When we reach my Honda, he slaps my shoulder in a platonic, friendly gesture and says, “Well, it was nice seeing you. Tell Brody I said hi.”

I gape at his retreating back.Did he just bro-slap me??I squeeze my keys in my fist. This is ridiculous. Irefuseto be bro-slapped by someone who was completely into me two weeks ago.

“Hey,” I call after him. He turns around, oblivious to just treating me like a bro. I tense. I thought I knew what I was ready to say, but I just stand here, swallowing against my dry throat.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Uh, I have an opening in my schedule next Saturday. We could do something, like get more tacos since you're a bottomless pit.”

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