Page 43 of Don't Say You're Sorry

“Unavailable,” someone cuts in, and I snap my eyes to the left, finding Easton leaning his elbow on the bar, facing the girl I’m talking to. He grins at her. “Hey there, big mouth.”

“Easton!” She hugs him, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, looking at me over her head.

I clench my jaw.

She says something to him I can’t hear, presumably about the game, before releasing him and turning back to me. “Unavailable, huh?”

I lift my hands, unsure what else to do.

“Well, if you’re everavailable, come find me.” She winks, picking up her drink. As she leaves with her friend, she runs intoFrankie, wrapping her arm around her neck and pressing her lips to her ear.

“Do you even know her name?” I ask Easton.

“I think it’s Taylor. Or Tina, maybe. She’s friends with Frankie and she has a little crush on Xavi. And now you.”

“Did you fuck her?”

He chuckles, turning his body toward me to lean both elbows on the bar, taking Taylor or Tina’s previous spot. “I think it’s more fun if I don’t tell you.”

I huff out a breath, still hung up on the fact he told her I was unavailable. “Why didn’t you just let me tell her I was gay?”

“Because if they know you’re gay, the guys in here will swarm like bees.” He makes a swarming motion with his fingers. “How many times have you been hit on tonight?”

I fumble for words. “I?—”

“Megan!” Easton calls. “How many times has he been hit on tonight?”

“About thirty. Maybe more. I lost count.”

I splutter. “She’s lying. It hasn’t been that many.”

Easton smiles at my embarrassment and looks at Megan. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

“As a button.”

He laughs while I glare at the pair of them.

“And no, before you ask,” he says for my ears only, leaning in closer. “I didn’t fuck Megan. And I didn’t fuck Taylor or Tina either. Happy?”

“Yeah,” I say, making his smile grow. I smile back. It’s nice to see it again. “You’re in a better mood than you were two hours ago.”

“How do you know what mood I was in two hours ago?”

“We watched your game on Megan’s phone. You were great. I’m proud of you, E.”

He licks his lips, his eyes dropping to my mouth, then down my body. I’m wearing black ripped jeans and a black vest with oversized armholes, revealing a little more skin than I usually do, but not as much as some of the other bartenders who are wearing crop tops or nothing at all above the waist.

“You noticed,” he says, his eyes moving back up to my face.

“Noticed what?”

“What mood I was in. I thought I hid it quite well, excluding the last sixty seconds of the game.”

“You did,” I say. “You can’t hide from me though.”

He stares at me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, gesturing to his back.

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