Page 34 of Pick Me
“Maybe.”
“Definitely,” I said with the confidence of four heavily poured gin and tonics. “Better that than having someone be all ‘lemme give you this look that’s so hot it’s like my eyeballs are made of molten green glass and then accuse you of being an immatureteenagerwho wants things he shouldn’t want.’”
I signaled the bartender for another round.
“Men are assholes,” John said loyally, even though he had no idea what I was talking about.
“Men are assholes,” I agreed, proving that I really did have a repetition problemandthat I was rather inebriated.
John nodded vehemently for two beats, and then his eyes got suspiciously shiny, and he sniffled a little. “Except they’re not always, though, are they?”
I deflated. “Sometimes not,” I admitted, thinking of Knox opening up about his family on the car ride from Vermont and his happy-go-lucky smile in that picture on the orchard website. “They’re like cows that way, when you think about it. They lure you in, thenbam. Murdered. Cold as ice.”
“You’re a little odd,” said John after a beat. “Would you like to dance?”
I was about to tell him I refused to be the only person out on the floor, but when I turned my head and looked—whoa, those strobe lights weresomething,huh? And when had they turned off the overhead lights?—it had gotten surprisingly full while I’d been talking with John.
Besides which, John was kind of cute with his lumberjack-adjacent vibe, and I felt like we were besties now.
“Sure.” I stood up and swayed a little, which was a sign I needed to slam back my fifth gin and tonic and then suck on the lime for good measure. “Let’s go.”
It had been a minute since I’d been drunk on the dance floor, and I’d forgotten how much fun it could be. The press of sweaty shirtless bodies against mine, the flashing lights, the loud beat of the music that pounded through me like a primal heartbeat.
It turned out John was a really good dancer. His hips swayed against mine in perfect tempo, but he didn’t try to get handsy at all, which was great since I didn’t want him that way, and it was easy to let my mind float away on the rhythm to a place where I wasn’t thinking about the future, or my career, or the dizzying array of life choices in front of me and how badly I could fuck everything up.
“Oh, my God,” John cried in a panic, grabbing my arm hard enough to hurt and startling me out of my happy drift. “Don’t look over there. No! I saiddon’tlook! That’sTeagan.”
“How am I supposed to know who I’m not supposed to look at, John?”
“Oh. Right. Redhead, navy shirt, andhoooly fuck, he’s heading this way! I don’t want him to see me.” John attempted to hide himself behind my considerably smaller frame.
“Dude, he’s looking right at you. Why are you hiding?”
“Because he must be here with John,” John moaned, which made the calculus in my brain start up again. “This is going to be awful.”
“It’s going to be fine—” I began, but then suddenly the redhead was right in front of me, peering around me to see John’s head buried between my shoulder blades.
“Hey! You must be John’s roommate Teagan!” I said super enthusiastically.
Teagan’s eyes flashed to mine for half a distracted second. “Yeah. John, are you—?”
I elbowed John lightly, and he straightened up and gave Teagan a bright smile.
“Teagan, hey! I didn’t see you there!” John leaned against my side, which was dangerous since I wasn’t feeling a whole lot steadier than he was, and draped his arm around my shoulder. “This is Gay.”
“Gage,” I corrected.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Entirely.”
“Gage,” he agreed. He squeezed me against him more tightly. “He’s my new boyfriend.”
“I’m what?” I demanded.
“He’s what?” Teagan demanded.
“John,” I began, shaking my head, but Teagan interrupted.
