Page 53 of Outlaw Heartstrings
Refusing to make eye contact with him again, I crank the engine and shift the car into reverse.
Friend Zone Purgatory, here we come.
19
EASTON
“Are we going out tonight? I thought we were going out tonight.” Oliver skids into the doorway to the living room, all dressed up in a black button down shirt, ironed black pants and his best dress shoes. His jaw is freshly shaven and his hair is all gelled back and there’s an urgent look on his face.
“Sort of in the mood to stay in, actually,” Lincoln mumbles, barely looking up from where he’s stretched out on the couch, lazily doom-scrolling on his phone.
Rocco steals the remote from where it’s laying on the couch by Lincoln’s head. “Same.” He flings one leg over the arm of the loveseat he’s sitting in and scratches his belly. “The last thing I want to do is put on real pants right now,” he says with a yawn as he changes the channel.
My family is back in Fairy Bush for the weekend, and I’m glad to have them around. At least when I’m not in the house all by myself, I have a distraction from sitting around and wishing I were spending time with Jagger and Alba.
So, yeah. I’m glad to have my family around.
And it’s comforting to know that I get to kick them allout and ship them off to the guesthouse the minute they inevitably start getting on my nerves. Bonus points for that.
Right now, we’re lounging around the living room as some historical documentary now plays on the TV. But from the urgency on Oliver’s face, I can tell that we won’t be lounging around for much longer.
“Come on. Get up. Let’s go.” Oliver marches across the carpeted floor, plucks the remote from Rocco’s dangling hand and turns off the television with a definitiveclick. “It’s Friday night. Let’s go out. Get some air,” he says, giving Rocco’s knee a hard shove.
I chuckle to myself, seeing my youngest brother so worked up. I know exactly what he’s getting at. “What do you have in mind,Oli? A night at The Whiskey Barrel maybe?”
He gives a vigorous nod. “Yeah. The Whiskey Barrel sounds good…or whatever.” Then he frowns and flings a couch cushion at me. “And don’t fucking call me ‘Oli’.”
I start cackling, and Lincoln and Rocco quickly join in.
“Oli-Oli-Oli!” Rocco sings.
Our youngest brother growls, stomping on Rocco’s foot.
Just then, Mom ambles past, humming contentedly to herself. She’s dressed in a fluffy bathrobe and house slippers, with her hair wrapped up in a towel and a basket of girly shit in her arms.
Oliver grasps her by the shoulders, gently steering her into the living room. “Mom, tell these losers to get off their lazy butts. We need to go outside.”
Without even asking a question, Mom is on Oliver’s side. As usual.
Her eyes scan over Lincoln, Rocco and me. “Yes, you boys should go out. Catch up with old friends while you’re in town.”
We groan and protest, letting it be known that we’d rather just stay home.
But Mom shoos us away with her long-handled back scrubber brush. “Go, go, go! All of you. I’m about to pour myself a big glass of wine and take a soak in the tub. You guys are going to regret being in the house once I start blasting my Sabrina Carpenter albums.” She starts singingEspressoand wiggling her shoulders in time with her off-pitch tune.
My brothers and I all groan, because we know how quickly Mom’s party sessions tend to escalate. None of us wants to stick around forthat.
We all hustle to our respective rooms and throw on some clothes before Oliver hustles us out the front door. He hops behind the wheel and drives us directly to The Whiskey Barrel.
So damn predictable.
Chloe catches sight of us the minute we step inside. She abandons the customer she’s chatting with at the bar and runs straight into Oliver’s arms.
“Oli!” she shrieks, grabbing his face and planting a kiss on his cheek. Then she gives him a tight squeeze, tucking herself against his chest. “Oh my gosh! My Oli! It’s so good to see you!” She eases back, blatantly checking him out. “And, ooh! You look sogooood!”
Red splotches spread across my youngest brother’s cheeks like a nasty rash as the entire bar watches the reunion. “Dammit, Chloe. Dramatic much?”
I know Oliver. He’s trying to act nonchalant. But he’s absolutely loving this reunion with his childhood friend.
