Page 44 of The Boyfriend Boycott
“It’s not what it looks like,” I try to explain. But it’s exactly what it looks like. “Her mom showed up in town, so I offered to host. Spencer just insisted that she stay in the van so that she could be here.”
“Did she stay in the van? That’s the real question,” Jett prods.
“She didn’t, did she? I thought we talked about this.” Hudson sounds disappointed in me, and it kind of irks me that he feels the need to worry about me. It’s never been this way in our relationship. I’ve always been the older brother, the one to worry about him, to make sure that he’s okay. Not the other way around. It’s not going to start now. “Jett, back me up here. Thisis a bad idea. Spencer’s got one foot out the door. You know Grady’s not the friends-with-benefits type.”
Jett shrugs.
“Don’t look at me for relationship advice. I am not the one to talk to when it comes to feelings and shit. It sounds like the perfect scenario to me. Two words:fuckandchuck.”
“God, Jett, why are you such a dick?” Hudson says. “It’s going to catch up to you one day.”
“Yeah? Tell me how it’s worked out for you pining over your high school sweetheart,” Jett chides.
“Don’t bring Wren into this. You don’t even know the half of it.”
“It’s not like that with Spencer. I don’t know, something is different between us. There’s a connection, I can’t really describe it,” I explain.
“Whatever, dude.” Hudson dismisses what I’ve said. “I just know what she did to you last time she left. You try to be what everyone else needs, hoping that someone will seeyouand do the same. Just don’t assume she can read your mind. If you really want her, you gotta go after it, okay?”
“Like you’ve gone after Wren?” Jett sneers, and from the colour blooming on Hudson’s cheeks, I think he might actually explode.
“Okay, okay. Enough. I didn’t bring you two bozos here so you could argue,” I say, shoving two serving trays I borrowed from the bar towards each of them. “You’re here so I can whip you into shape for tonight.”
“Why doesn’t Mason have to be here?” Jett whines.
“You know why Mason doesn’t have to be here. He’s got important shit to do, unlike you clowns.”
“Hey,” Hudson protests.
“Sorry Hud, you’re right. Jett is the clown here.” I walk around the living room where I’ve set up various surfaces tomimic the layout of the bar. I shouldn’t really be making fun of Jett. After all, he did volunteer to help with the cocktail party tonight. I needed extra hands behind the bar to help Finn make all the drinks, which left me short a few servers, and they stepped up. I’m not calling it a success just yet. Neither of them has ever served a day in their life, so my expectations are low. “Each of these tables represents a table in the bar. I’m going to hand you drinks on your tray and you deliver them to the right table number, got it?” The pair of them nod. “Let’s get to work.”
I take my place behind the kitchen island, my makeshift bar, and load up a tray with two glasses. We’ll start off easy. Jett takes his tray, one hand underneath, and whips it around as he turns towards the tables. A glass goes flying, spilling the water and shattering on my hardwood floor.
Fuck me, this is going to be a long day.
CHAPTER 18
SPENCER
“This place is so … quaint,”my mother says as we wander down the main street, and I ignore the subtle hint in her tone that what she really wanted to say wasrusticorramshackle. But the day is perfect, so I’m not going to let Marla’s judgment sour my mood.
The sun is out and more people have started to emerge post the winter deep freeze in the mountains, so Main Street is bustling with people out enjoying their weekend. After having Marla show up unannounced, my mood perked up when I overheard Grady giving her the life advice she needs. I’ve always been the one having to dole it out, but she’s a little like a petulant teenager. I’m hoping if she hears how messed up she is from someone else, it might finally sink in.
We pass by a few storefronts. Some shop owners are setting up their displays on the sidewalk. I spot Poppy doing the same, arranging some wrought iron bistro sets on the makeshift patio in front of the cafe.
“Hey, Poppy!” I say as we approach. Her face brightens when she sees me, her dark doe eyes alighting. I turn to introduce Poppy to my mother, but she’s no longer beside me. Marla is like a crow when it comes to new and shiny things, and right nowthat new, shiny thing is the rack of dresses outside the Dragonfly Boutique, across the street from Thistle + Thorne.
“Hey, Spence! I have all your plants ready to go for the cocktail contest tonight. I had Jaime put together some arrangements with dark greenery, ferns and stuff, to fit the bar.”
“That sounds perfect, Pops. Did you submit a cocktail?”
“Of course I did! I absolutely love the idea. We’ve never done anything like this here.” Poppy finishes setting down a couple of chairs and wipes some dust off her hands onto her apron. “Don’t tell anyone, but mine is the Earl Grey Martini.”
“My lips are sealed,” I say, making a zipping motion across my mouth. Though, I’m sure everyone will be able to guess which one is Poppy’s. “I’ll be back to get the arrangements, as soon as I can pry my mother away to help me.”
I wander across the street and find Marla flipping through the hangers. She’s stopped on a vibrant pink shift dress.
“Pretty,” I say, approaching her from behind. She glances over her shoulder at me, holding the dress outstretched, head cocked to one side, considering. “That colour would look really good on you.”
