6

“I can’t get her to stop talking.” My tone came out sharper than I intended, and Cole’s raised brow showed he didn’t miss it. “She has plenty of opinions about English Literature,” I added, plucking at an imaginary speck on my slacks. I crossed one leg over the other, trying to appear calm and indifferent.

It didn’t work.

Cole leaned back, studying me with a smug grin. “You like her.” He folded his arms. “Wow. Didn’t see that one coming.”

I shot to my feet, pointing an accusing finger at him. “And you don’t? Don’t even try to deny it. I saw your face when you said her name.” My jaw tightened, frustration bubbling over. “She’s off-limits, Cole.”

“I know that, Evan .” He dragged my name out like a curse. “Do you think I don’t get it? If either of us crossed that line, we’d lose everything—our jobs, our reputations. No college would touch us.”

That cold truth settled heavily between us. Becca  wasn’t just off-limits because of some arbitrary rule; the stakes were too high to even entertain the thought.

“I need a drink,” I muttered, raking both hands through my hair and ruining the neat style I’d started the day with. Shrugging off my jacket, I glanced at Cole. “You coming?”

“Definitely.” He grabbed his keys from the desk drawer, spinning them around his finger as he stood. “I’ll drive.”

For once, I didn’t argue. I’d need more than one drink tonight to exorcise Becca  from my thoughts. Nothing else had worked—not even the cold shower I’d endured this morning after waking up from a dream about her. And yet, by the time class rolled around, I still hadn’t been able to keep my mind from wandering.

Cole whistled as we walked out the back exit toward the faculty lot. His carefree attitude only fueled my irritation.

“Do you have to do that?” I snapped, yanking open the door to his car.

“Do what?” Cole smirked as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He was always ready to push my buttons.

I slid into the passenger seat, blasting the air conditioning as soon as the engine started. “I’m calling Dave. Maybe he’ll meet us at Joe’s.”

Joe’s—a no-frills bar and lounge—had been our go-to spot for years. It wasn’t flashy enough to draw most of the student crowd, which suited us just fine. The dim lighting and laid-back vibe made it the perfect place to unwind.

Cole tapped his watch, feigning surprise. “Karaoke night. You sure you want to deal with that noise?”

“Perfect. It’ll drown out my thoughts.” I scrolled through my contacts and dialed Dave.

No answer.

“He’s not picking up,” I muttered, shoving my phone back into my pocket as Cole pulled into the parking lot.

“More drinks for us, then.” He grinned, clapping me on the knee before hopping out of the car.

Joe’s wasn’t packed—yet. Only a handful of cars dotted the lot, which meant we’d get served quickly. That worked for me.

The bouncer at the entrance waved us in without so much as a glance. After years of weekly visits, we were practically part of the furniture.

The familiar scents of greasy bar food, spilled beer, and too much cologne hit me as we stepped inside. It was oddly comforting. The low hum of voices and the strumming of an acoustic guitar onstage filled the room. I inhaled deeply, letting the atmosphere work its magic.

Joe stood behind the bar, pouring drinks for two men who seemed more interested in each other than their beverages. He spotted us and gave a quick nod of recognition.

I held up two fingers, signaling our usual order, and we made our way to a booth tucked in the corner. It was far enough from the stage to avoid the worst of the noise but gave us a clear view of the room.

Sliding into the seat, I exhaled a long breath. “Finally.”

Joe brought our drinks over himself—whiskey neat for me, craft beer for Cole.

“Keep ’em coming,” I said, downing the whiskey in one go and placing the empty glass back on the table with a satisfying clink.

Cole said nothing, though the smug look on his face spoke volumes as he drained half his beer in one long gulp.

I jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’re driving. Two drinks, max.”

“He’s just drowning his sorrows,” Cole said, his grin widening.

Joe smirked as he picked up my empty glass. “Just don’t cause any trouble, boys.”

“Us? Trouble?” Cole splayed his hands in mock innocence, his eyes glinting mischievously.

We’d never started any fights, but when provoked, we didn’t back down either.

Joe disappeared to fetch another round, leaving us in the relative quiet of the booth. I rubbed my temples, trying to block out the endless loop of thoughts about Becca . Her voice, her smile, the way she leaned forward during class, completely engrossed in our discussions—it was maddening.

Cole tilted his head, watching me with a knowing look. “So, what’s your plan?”

I snorted, pouring the last of my resolve into the second glass of whiskey Joe placed in front of me moments later. “Plan? My plan is to drink until I forget she exists.”

“Good luck with that.” Cole leaned back, raising his beer in a mock toast. “She’s clearly living rent-free in your head.”

I didn’t respond. What was there to say? He was right, and I hated that I couldn’t do anything about it. Not tonight, anyway.

The band onstage switched to a livelier tune, the volume rising along with the chatter of the crowd. Karaoke was still an hour away, but the place was already buzzing.

Maybe the noise, the drinks, and Cole’s relentless teasing would be enough to dull the edges of my obsession. At least for a little while.

Kennedy placed the next whiskey in front of me and lingered to chat with Cole. Their history wasn’t a secret—brief, casual, and surprisingly drama-free. Now, they were just friends, but Cole still kept an eye out for her. He’d lost it once when a drunk customer got handsy, and Joe had to physically drag him outside before he decked the guy.

“Any trouble tonight?” Cole asked her, his tone light but tinged with that protective edge.

Kennedy shook her head. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Still, she leaned against the booth as if Cole’s presence gave her a small sense of relief.

I ignored their conversation, trying not to roll my eyes. It wasn’t Kennedy who had my attention, anyway. Becca ’s face, her voice, her smile—it was an endless loop in my mind, and I hated it.

Grimacing, I threw back the whiskey in one go, the burn doing nothing to ease my frustration. My nails scraped against my scalp as if I could physically claw her out of my brain.

Then I saw him.

“Son of a—” I stopped short, kicking Cole’s shin beneath the table.

“What?” He scowled, rubbing his leg.

I nodded toward the far side of the room, where a head of silvery-brown hair caught the low light. “That’s why Dave isn’t answering his phone. He’s already here. And he’s not alone.”

Cole followed my gaze, his expression hardening.

Dave leaned in closer to the woman beside him, a woman who turned her head just enough for me to catch the full view of her face.

Becca .

Curses flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. Cole’s jaw dropped, and he was halfway out of his seat before I yanked him back down.

“Tell me I’m hallucinating,” he muttered, leaning over the table to squint at them. “For fuck’s sake, Evan , tell me that’s not Becca . Say it’s some other girl.”

I couldn’t. There was no mistaking her. Her hand rested lightly on Dave’s arm, her head tilted just slightly as she smiled at him with an expression that was soft, genuine—intimate.

The other woman at the table leaned over to whisper something in Becca ’s ear. Moments later, she stood and walked off toward the bar, leaving Becca  and Dave alone.

And the two of them? They leaned even closer.

“Shit.” Cole dragged a hand over his face. “They’re on a fucking date. Dave. Of all people.”

It wasn’t just a date. The way Becca  and Dave looked at each other—like they were the only two people in the room—made my stomach churn. Her hand lingered on his arm, her lips parted just enough to show she was hanging on his every word.

The worst part? Dave wasn’t just some guy. He was one of my closest friends.

Cole’s fist clenched around his empty beer glass, his knuckles white. “Tell me what to do, Evan , because if I watch this any longer, I’m gonna lose it.”

I grabbed his beer and drained the rest of it in one long gulp.

“What do we do?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

I stared at them for a moment longer, torn between anger, jealousy, and outright panic. Becca ’s laugh carried across the room, light and carefree, and I knew one thing for certain.

We couldn’t sit here and do nothing.

“Get another drink,” I muttered, my voice tight. “We need to think.”