Since it didn’t look like Frankie and Jen would be returning anytime soon, I scooted away from Cyrus to place some distance between us, but the idiot only closed it. His thigh was pressed right up against mine and a cocky smile played on his lips. He knew what he was doing, only he didn’t think I’d call him on his bullshit. He should’ve known better.
“Can you move?” I waved my hand, hoping if my words didn’t give him a hint then my hand gestures would.
“No,” he said simply, looking around the restaurant.
My mouth fell open. God, this guy couldn’t catch a hint. He was hot, but he was also a major pain in the ass.
“Here’s your drinks,” Memphis grinned, carrying a tray towards us. Lowering it, he frowned, “We already lost those two? I swear, if they’re having sex in the bathroom again—”
“Frankie was being an ass,” Daphne interrupted. “Jen’s probably crying while he mutters I’m sorry over and over again.” She reached up, taking her drink off the tray. She took a large gulp. “Oh, that’s good,” she said despite her win
ce from the bitter taste.
Memphis laughed, handing Cyrus his drink and one to me. He went ahead and placed Jen and Frankie’s down too, optimistic that they’d return.
“Go on, try it,” he nodded at me.
“Oh,” I jumped slightly, startled by his command.
I eyed the concoction, hoping he hadn’t slipped poison in it or something. I mean, if he had, that would make him a pretty shitty bartender.
I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip.
“Hmm, not bad,” I smiled up at him. It was surprisingly sweet tasting with just a hint of alcohol—I wasn’t sure what kind though. “What is this?”
“It’s a secret,” he winked. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, and wouldn’t that be a shame?”
Without pausing for an answer he strode away and back to the bar.
I continued to sip on Memphis’ magical mixture of goodness, completely ignoring Cyrus, and doing a poor job of conversing with Daphne.
If I was going to be her friend, I needed to do a better job.
“Are you in college?” I asked her, stealthily sliding the tiniest bit away from Cyrus in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice.
He didn’t.
He was staring at some chick’s legs, where she was pressed up against the bar-top flirting with Memphis. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Her dress did a poor job of covering her ass. It was more like a towel. She had the attention of most guys in the bar—except the one she was talking to. His eyes were locked on mine. He grinned slowly at me and my lower half squirmed.
“No.”
“Huh?” I turned at the sound of Daphne’s voice.
“I’m not in college.”
“Oh,” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Do you have a job?”
She shook her head, her lips turning down in a frown. “I’m trying to break into modeling.”
“That’s awesome!” I exclaimed loudly. Okay, maybe my drink had more alcohol in it than I realized. In a softer tone, I added, “I wouldn’t imagine there are very many modeling opportunities in this area, though.”
“More than you think,” she replied, propping her elbow on the table and her head in her hand, “but not enough.”
“Why don’t you move?” I questioned.
“Finances.” Her slender shoulders rose dramatically with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll move to Manhattan one day.”
“You totally should!”