Page 53 of Bittersweet

“Really?” She jerks her hands away from his body, and places them on herhips.

“Don’t be like that,” Nico says with a grin. “Tonight I’m here with my boy. He’sheartbroken.”

“No. I’m reallynot.”

“He’s also a shittyliar.”

“Well, you boys let me know if you want to have a little fun. I have just the girl in mind for you, Nico’sboy.”

“It’s Elio, and thanks, butI’m—”

“He’sinterested.”

“He’s really not,” I say, already growing tired of thisshit.

“You’re right. He is a shitty liar.” The woman winks and backs up a step, pointing at Nico. “You owe me a dance,guapo.”

“Absolutely.” Nico nods, and turns tome.

I raise my brow as the woman walksoff.

Nico frowns. “What?”

“Nothing . . .” I trail off. “Just . . . does she remind you ofanyone?”

“Leticia?” His brows knit. “No. Shouldshe?”

I grin and decide that while my problems with Romy are fucked up, at least I’m not as clueless as this unluckybastard.

“Four shots of your finest tequila, my good woman.” Nico slams a credit card down on the bar, his voice loud even over thethump, thump, thumpof themusic.

“Our finest? Or the one at our finest price?” The bartender narrows her eyes, and wow, Nico really has been here a lot. Clearly, they know himwell.

“The latter,” he mutters, and I try to act enthused as she pours the shooters then slides them across thebar.

“To getting women out of our head.” Nico raises a glass in toast, encouraging me to do the same. “May you never think of Romyagain.”

“Cheers,” I say. I’ll drink to that, but I’m already drowning in her. Romy is firmly cemented in my head, and she’s not goinganywhere.

We settle into a booth. Soon, Leticia joins us, along with her “friend” who turns out to be pretty. But I don’t want “pretty.” I want long golden–brown hair, dark eyes, and curves for fuckingdays.

Moretequila.

Morewomen.

The temptations keep coming, and I couldn’t give a shit. This isn’t my scene, and while B all but forced me out the door—“anything to get thatlimoneexpression off your face,fratello”—I’m beginning to think this wasn’t just a bad idea. It was a fucking terribleone.

When Leticia asks Nico to give her poor shoulders a massage, her tits heaving as if holding them up hurts her far too much, I’ve had enough. I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. I could sneak out while Nico’s distracted, but I’m not sure I’m ready to go home and face my sister’s questions, and there will be questions. Though maybe I should pose a few of my own, like what the fuck she and Nico are doing delaying the inevitable. I may have tried to beat his head in when we were in high school for kissing her, but I knew even back then they’re perfect for eachother.

I walk the dimly lit hall and head into the men’s room. I piss, wash my hands, and glare at my expression in the horrible fluorescent lighting. There are dark circles beneath my eyes. I need a haircut, and my beard—hell, maybe I should just shave my beard off. I splash my face with water and run a hand overit.

Drying my hands on the paper towel, I toss it in the trash, yank open the door, and walk down the hall. The shitty music pounds. Sweat beads on my forehead again. Fuck it. I’mleaving.

But there sheis.

Romy.

What thefuck?

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