Page 5 of Bad at Love
“Oh, but it does,” she says, making a face. She looks over the crowd at him as he gives cash to the bartender. “And anyway, I’m not saying this because I’m protective of him. I’m protective of you.”
“Why?” I ask. “What’s wrong with him?”
She rolls her eyes as if to ask,what isn’t?
Then he’s back beside us, holding out three drinks with perfect balance.
“Here we are,” he says as everyone takes their drinkfrom him. “Blonde ale for the blondie,” he says to me, handing me the beer.
“Thank you,” I tell him, hyperaware now of the way I’m acting around him.
“Where’s your drink?” Jane asks him.
“I’m driving home after,” he says.
“Where’s Shannon?”
Who is Shannon?
Laz gives her a sheepish smile. “No Shannon. It’s Vanessa.”
Who is Vanessa?
“What happened to Shannon?”
He gives a slight shake of his head and covers his smile with his beer. “Shannon was months ago.”
“Shannon was at the last show. Two weeks ago. And you were together then.”
He shrugs and gives me a mock apologetic look. “You’ll have to excuse my sister here, she lives to give me a hard time.”
“Only because you deserve it,” she says, but she’s smiling, so apparently this is just good old-fashioned sibling ribbing. Which is cute and all, but I can’t help focusing on the fact that Lazhas a girlfriend. Named Shannon. Or Vanessa.
And of course he does. I mean, look at him. He’s dressed like a rock star, has great hair, devious dark eyes, and I’ve seen a flash of a tongue ring. He’s tall, over six feet, and he’s got some mad thick arms and pecs that are straining against his T-shirt. He’s the real fucking deal.
Story of my life. I’m picky when it comes to guys, meaning it’s so damn rare that I feel a spark of any sort. Naturally, it has to happen with someone I can’t have, let alone a friend’s brother.
“There she is now,” Laz says, waving at someone near the door.
I crane my neck to look and see a pretty brunette waving shyly back at him. She’s definitely got a sweet face, but she’s by no means thin. Not that there’s anything wrong with that—I’m on a cleanse every other week to drop my freshman forty—but for some reason I expected a tall supermodel.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Laz says to Jane and then nods at Naomi and me. “It was nice meeting you guys. Come to the next show, you promise?”
Naomi makes a grumbling sound while I nod and say, “Sure” with another big stupid smile.
“Why are you nodding so violently?” Naomi asks me as he disappears into the crowd to meet his Vanessa.
“I’m not,” I say, willing my head to stop moving. I clear my throat and look at Jane. “So, is that why I should stay away from him? He’s a manwhore?”
“Actually no,” she says thoughtfully. “He’s not a manwhore. He’s a serial monogamist. He doesn’t date around, doesn’t sleep around. He’s just never single. He moves from one relationship to the next.”
“How long was he with this Shannon for?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. A month, maybe two. There was Sandra before that. Then it was Kristen. You get the idea. And that’s why the two of you would never work.”
“But you just said we’d get along well,” I point out.
“Yeah. Maybe as friends. But if you guys dated, knowing Laz, you’d be together for a few months at most, then you’d break up and it would be that awkward Ross and Rachel situation that Naomi and I would have to put up with. No, thank you.”
