I turned and looked out of the large windows that overlooked the main road. It was dark, but the lights at the front of the bar illuminated the outside enough that I could tell it was no longer snowing.
There was about four inches on the ground, but at least it had stopped for now.
“My apartment isn’t far. I can walk there.”
“Holley, I’m not going to let you walk home alone. It’s dark and cold and you’ve had at least three glasses of wine.”
At least? I’d only had three, thank you very much.
“Okay, fine. Walk me home and you can call a cab from my building.”
“Sounds good. Shall we tell them we’re going?”
I looked over at our friends in front of the karaoke book. Ivy and Kai had left a little before nine to pick up Tegan, and it was almost eleven now. Since I had to open the store tomorrow, I was seriously regretting this life choice.
“No. I’ll text Josh. He’s the most sober of the lot.”
“Really? Bohemian Rhapsody was him sober?”
“Sadly, yes.” I gave him a pointed look and got up, grabbing my coat. I was extra thankful I’d brought fifty layers with me today, so I wrapped up and told Seb to wait for a moment so I could say goodbye to my parents.
I walked up to the bar where they were both working and waited until Mom was done pouring two glasses of wine.
She glanced over. “Are you leaving, honey?”
“Yeah, I have to open the store tomorrow. Sorry to leave you with, well, my friends.”
She laughed as she rung up the order. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we’re not used to this every single week. Is Sebastian staying?”
I shook my head. “He’s walking me home then getting a cab from my place.”
“Oh, really?” There was a hint of something in her voice.
“No, Mother.” I pointed at her with my gloved finger. “Get that idea out of your head right now. We’re friends.”
“Friends who are pretending to be more,” she replied. “Your sister might have fooled me, but you can’t.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Hey, Holls?” Dad called over. “Any chance of season tickets yet?”
“In your dreams!” I leaned over the bar and hugged Mom, then waved him goodbye and headed back through the people to grab Seb and drag him out before my dad went any further.
First, he’d want season tickets.
Then, he’d want a wedding.
It was just how his weird little brain worked.
“Okay?” Seb questioned as we stepped out into the freezing tundra that was White Peak’s Main Street.
“Fine. My dad is asking about season tickets again.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and buried my chin in my scarf.
He laughed, his elbow bumping mine as we walked. “I can probably get him season tickets if he really wants. Or he can come to the home games as my guest sometimes. It’s fine.”
“No,” I said quickly. “Don’t tempt him. He’ll never leave you alone if you open that avenue.”
“I don’t mind. I like your dad.”
I peered over in time to catch his smile. I shook my head. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“That’s not something you should agree with.” I paused. “Although you did turn down that hot girl who tried to buy you a drink.”
“You think she was hot?”
“We’ve had a whole discussion about this tonight. Right after the whole making out thing, we literally talked about how girls tend to notice how hot other girls are but guys aren’t really bothered by that stuff.”
“Point well made.” He nodded his head slowly.
“Why did you turn her down? She didn’t seem like one of those weird groupies who chases baseball players around.”
His breath puffed out in a cloud of steam in front of him, and he looked at the streetlights that lined our path. “I wasn’t interested in her. She’s not my type.”
“A tall redhead with an ass better than my boobs isn’t your type?”
“There’s nothing wrong with your boobs.”
“How do you know that?”
“We shared a bed. You wore a tank top. It was hardly intentional.”
My cheeks flamed red. Shit. I really hadn’t thought that through the first night. “Okay, well, this is awkward.”
Seb laughed and bumped me with his elbow—deliberately this time. “Nah, it’s all right. It’s not like I saw nipple or anything.”
“Oh, my God. Please stop.” I shook my head and looked down at the fresh snow in front of us. “I guess I don’t understand how she’s not your type.”
“She just isn’t,” he replied, his voice quietening toward the end. “I know exactly what kind of woman she is, and while it’s fine, she’s not for me.”
“What kind of woman is she?”
“She’s the kind who recognizes me, but probably isn’t entirely sure where from. She knows I’m semi-famous but can’t place me because she’s only ever seen me if I’ve been spotted with someone she knows or my face has flashed on the screen if her ex or her dad have been watching a game,” he started. “She wants to place me to see if I’m worth her time. She’s not a chaser, not really, but she’s definitely not going to settle for the bakery owner or the guy who changes her oil for free because he’s got a crush on her.”