“You’re not drinking a lot are you?”
When we were in high school Liam had gotten in trouble several times for underage drinking. I mean, I confess I’d had a beer now and then, but Liam…I didn’t want it to become an issue for him.
“Leave it alone, Willie.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s like you’re asking me to stab you with a fork or something,” I muttered. I hated that nickname a thousand times more than Will. “I’m worried about you,” I admitted.
His shoulders deflated and his eyes softened. “I’m doing good. An occasional beer isn’t a big deal.”
I wanted to argue it was when he was nineteen and the waitress automatically knew to bring him one. But I knew now wasn’t the time to fight this battle.
Beneath the table Dean rubbed his hand up and down my leg, trying to soothe me.
When the waitress returned we both placed an order for the fish tacos and, like with the drinks, she didn’t bother asking the guys what they wanted.
Turning my attention to Ollie, I asked, “Do you surf?”
“Yeah, but not like this one.” He clapped Liam on the shoulder and Liam ducked his head, chuckling under his breath. “King of the Wave, this one.” He wagged his thumb at Liam.
“Hardly.” Liam snorted. “And Ollie could be at a higher level if he wasn’t constantly raiding my pantry.”
“It’s true.” Ollie shrugged.
“Are you from here?” I asked Ollie.
“Grew up in San Diego, but after I dropped out of high school I found myself here.”
“Do you have a job?” I knew I probably sounded like an annoying parent or something, but I wanted to know more about who Liam was hanging out with. I didn’t want him to be influenced by the wrong kind of people.
Ollie nodded. “I work at a bike shop.”
“Motorcycles?” Dean questioned, excitement flaring in his eyes.
“No, bikes like bicycles, the ones with the little bells on the handles. Ding, ding.” He gestured with his hand like he was ringing a bell.
Beside me, Dean suppressed laughter.
“You’d be surprised at how much of a profitable business it is. These rich people love to drop money on stupid things,” Ollie continued. “I once sold a man a bracelet for two-hundred dollars because I told him it was made by one of the founding fathers.” Shrugging, he said, “I made it myself out of my hair. I shed like a fucking dog.”
I’d been taking a drink of water but at this information I ended up spitting it out across the table. Water droplets splattered across Liam and Ollie’s shirts.
Ollie plucked his shirt away from his chest. “Sadly, I can’t say that’s the first time that’s happened.”
Liam chuckled and grabbed a napkin, wiping up the water from the table.
Recovering, I continued my interrogation of Ollie. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Have you ever smoked weed?”
“Have you seen me?” He countered.
“Stupid question,” I agreed, and that probably explained why he’d been going after those Cheetos like they were going to disappear any second. “Favorite color?”
“All of them.”
“Have you ever been arrested?”