Page 17 of IOU

We don’t feed the rumors of who I used to be. We only feed the rumors about who I am now. The last thing Sebastian wants us to do is start talking about each other’s pasts. His has more secrets than mine.

Our waiter clears his throat awkwardly. “Anything else for you right now?” Finally, I look away and at the waiter still standing here talking and not fetching our goddamned drinks.

“Ye—” I start but then read his name tag. Tucker. “Are you the manager, Tucker?” Underneath is his title in small words reading assistant, not manager. Is this who the girls were talking about?

He stands straighter, proud of his assistant title. “Assistant, yes. Is there a problem?” His tone is professional, but a level of fear bubbles just beyond his flat and dull affect.

The little sniveling shit in front me is a college student. I’ve seen him around. I didn’t know his name, but that’s not surprising. I don’t know most people’s names. I can’t be bothered learning names. You’re either in a contract with me or not. Those who aren’t are at the table with me. No one else matters.

I glance back at the bar, waiting to see if the brunette has come back out.

She hasn’t.

“Not yet,” I say flatly. I dismiss him by swiping, waking up my laptop, and pulling up an email. The girl behind the bar is not my problem. In fact, she’s not a problem. From the sound of it, this asshole and his bitchy little helper are the problem.

“Uh ... Okay then. I’ll get you those drinks now.”

None of us acknowledge his existence.

I go back to my spreadsheet and Sebastian back to texting.

I don’t know how much time passes. It seems like only minutes, but when Rowan’s phone dings, it has me pulling my head up and realizing I now have a plate of food in front of me. “When did you order?” Where the fuck was I?

Sebastian snorts. “About twenty minutes ago. You were doing that weird, chanting thing.”

My lips purse. “It’s called brainstorming.”

“It’s called schizophrenia. We’ve asked you to stop talking to the voices, Mav. It’s weirding us out.” He’s fucking lying, and his deep baritone laugh confirms it.

“I’m working out scenarios in my head, dick. I’m not answering voices.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Seems like an awful lot of chatter going on in there. I’m telling you, clear the demons. Smoke a joint and get laid, it’ll clear all the voices out.”

It’s pointless to attempt a conversation with him.

“I’ll pass. I’ve seen the shit you do high.”

He leans forward, a big stupid grin stretching across his face. “Did you see my video last week? The shit got removed because they thought it was porn. Got over three million views, though, before it was taken down.”

Rowan makes a disgusted noise. “Dude, we told you we don’t watch or heart your shit. Stop asking us, you’re making it weird.”

Unfortunately, it’s not weird for me. Sebastian and I have been friends for too long. I’ve seen his strange, and it no longer fazes me.

“Did you see it, Mav?” He sounds like a little kid, eager for praise.

I cut him a really-do-you-think-I-would-watch-my-friend-fuck-a-girl look.

He waves me off. “It wasn’t that bad. All over the clothes stuff, but the noises she made...” He bites his knuckle and makes this face of ecstasy. “So fucking hot.”

I finger the collar of my shirt. Fuck. I’ve been sweating. I really did get consumed.

Sebastian catches the movement. “See? So fucking scary. I’m on my third drink.”

“I just get worked up when I’m going through all these numbers. It’s fine.”

Rowan doesn’t look convinced. “Aren’t you taking the same Calculus as me?”

I shut my laptop and stuff it in my bag. “It’s harder for me than it is for you.”

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