Page 26 of Forget Me Not
Double shit.
Syve knew if she didn’t intervene soon, the probability of Aimi beating Gunther’s ass wasincrediblyhigh.
“Goes both ways, Sugar. We both know I only put up with you for her sake.”
Bastien tossed her a curious glance that she ignored. They didn’t have time for her to warn him about what they were walking into. Hopefully he could roll with it, but if not? Hewasthe one who insisted on walking her home.
Syve took the stairs up to her loft two at a time with Bas hot on her heels, the door was wide open. Aimi and Gunther must have heard her coming, they both turned toward her the second she stepped in the door. Aimi blinked at her for all of five seconds, eyebrows in her hairline, before she closed the gap between them and slapped Syve right across the face. Bastien let out a startled curse behind her, but she herself was not shocked. In fact, she had expected worse.
“You’d better have the best fucking excuse for…” Aimi trailed off as she took in Syve’s appearance before doing a double take over her shoulder at Bastien. “Nice outfit. That adds about seven questions to the ridiculously long list I’ve made. I hope like hell you have answers for me woman or so help me—” Aimi took a deep breath, let it go and then said, “Spill.”
“We’re both entirely too sober for this.” Syve grimaced, then turned toward Gunther who was now standing next to Bastien.
“Thanks, man, for bringing my girl home.”
Syve rolled her eyes and Aimi groaned.This fucking guy.
Bastien
“Goddamn!”Bastienhissed.
You could have asked him to name every possible reaction he would have expected her best friend to have and not a single one of those would have been for her to slap Syve across the face. To her credit, Syve barely looked surprised—not surprised that Aimi hit her—no, it seemed she had been expecting more.
What an interesting friendship these two had.
“Sebastian? What the hell are you doing here?” Gunther slipped around Aimi and clapped a hand to Bas’ shoulder, squeezing harder thannecessary.
Bastien swatted his hand off with a sigh. What washedoing here? What the hell wasGuntherdoing here? He was also almost certain that Gunther was calling him the wrong name on purpose at this point. Two could play that game and Bastien was just tired enough to be petty.
“Gunny, weird seeing you here. I was just walking Syve home.”
Gunther crossed his arms, lip curling into sneer which he quickly schooled. “Thanks, man, for bringing my girl home.”
There was no fucking way.
Bastien felt like someone just dumped a bucket of ice down his back. He always wondered who could possibly be capable of putting up with Gunther, and it never even crossed his mind that person could beSyve.
“Your girl?”
“Gunther!” Syve barked. She also had her arms crossed, but she looked pissed. “You need tostoptelling people that! I amnotyour girl!”
“Come on doll, I don’t mean anything by it. It’s harmless; don’t be so dramatic.”
He had the audacity to roll his eyes at her. Maybe Aimi would hit him next. If not, maybe Bas could get away with it…
“Gunther.” Syve sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed. “Please go home. Thank you for helpingAimi—”
“Help?! Help my ass!” Aimi interrupted. A sideways glance from Syve quickly silenced whatever else she was going to say.
“Thank you for helping. I am fine, clearly, and I am home now. Please go.”
Syve put her hand on Bastien’s arm, gently guiding him further into the loft while using the other hand to flag Gunther out, like he was some unwanted plane and this was the world’s smallest runway.
Grumbling the entire way like a petulant child, he allowed Syve to push him out the door where she quickly said good night, before she closed the door in his face. Aimi went as far as to stick her tongue out at him through the window before dropping the shades and Bastien had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. The humor was short lived when Aimi rounded on him, stalking over to poke a very manicured nail into his chest.
“Now that the asshole is gone—what the hell are you doing with my girl?” Her finger jabbed his chest. “And yes,mygirl.” She pointed to her own chest. “And why,”—back to his chest— “is she…”poke, poke, poke,“…wearing,”poke,“your,”poke, poke, poke, “clothes?!”
Syve stepped in then. She didn’t say anything—just grabbed Aimi by the wrist and gently lowered her arm to her side.
