Ryder had his arm over Wyatt’s shoulder, and they were talking non-stop, laughing, teasing each other. The hollow-eyed haunted Wyatt from last night was just a memory, and thank goodness for that. The boy she remembered wasn’t gone…he’d just been a little lost.
“What’s your end game?” Weston asked from right beside her.
Harper startled hard. No one could sneak up on a person like Weston. “What do you mean?”
Weston took a swig of his beer and narrowed his eyes at Wyatt. “Are you really going to forgive him for leaving us like he did? Are you really going to just move on with him like the last ten years didn’t happen? I watched you pine for him, Harper. I was there watching you hurt. I was there when you started The Unrest. I was there waiting for you to purge him from your system, but you never did.”
“Wait.” Harper closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to sober up. “Do you…like me?”
“You mean would I like to fuck you? Sure. As friends.”
Harper frowned so hard her head started to hurt. “Do people do that? Fuck as friends?”
“Probably. But if you’re asking me if I want to date you, no. You’re one of my best friends, which is why I feel all protective of you. I don’t want you to spend your whole life stuck in the past.”
“Look, whatever happened with you and Wyatt, I’m sorry for it. That won’t affect my decision to be his friend, Wes. He needs us.”
Weston clicked his tongue against his teeth and sighed.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he uttered in a monotone.
“I appreciate you worrying over me, but I’m a grown woman, and I don’t have a ton of time left.”
Weston jerked his head to her and frowned. “Don’t talk like that, Harper. It’s not funny.”
She smiled sadly. “Wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
“You’ll be fine. Your dragon is just acting out because of the stuff you’ve been through. She’ll get over it.”
“The nosebleeds have started.”
Weston downed his beer, set the empty bottle down too hard, and gestured to Kane for another.
Ignore her all he wanted, but he couldn’t deny the facts. “Okay, what does your dad say?”
Weston’s dad was a mystic with a sight that extended beyond the veil, beyond this realm. He was also one bad motherfucker with a monster grizzly in him. Beaston was never wrong in his visions.
Weston shook his head for a long time and finally said, “My dad isn’t always right, you know. Not everything he says can be taken at face value.”
Harper sucked down half her margarita and sighed. “That sounds like some fragrant bullshit to me, Wes. I want to be happy.” She nudged him in the arm. “Tonight I’m happy, and you and Aaron and Ryder are a part of that. But him”—she gestured to Wyatt—“he’s a big part of it, too. Let me keep my happy and don’t make me feel weak for wanting it.”
Weston gripped the back of her neck and pressed his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then released her and nodded to Aaron.
Thoughtfully, Harper watched them walk toward a trio of pool tables along the back wall. Ryder was now asking Kane why he was wearing sunglasses inside, and she had the distinct feeling that dragon was going to get Ryder talking in circles, so she scooted over to the barstool right next to Wyatt. “Hey stranger.”
“I’m a stranger now, am I? I guess that’s fair.”
“Do you still eat your pizza crust-first?”
His sexy smile reached his eyes, so blue and clear. “I do.”
“Do you still play guitar?”
“I do not. I haven’t picked one up since I left Saratoga.”
“Pity.”
“You always liked guitar players.”
“Did you have lots of girlfriends?” She shouldn’t have asked that, but she couldn’t help her tipsy tongue.
Wyatt took a drink of his bottled water, and when he set it down, the smile had faded from his lips. “Don’t do this.”
“How many?”
Wyatt’s gaze drifted to the pool table, and he ran his hands down his whiskers. “Two. I was a shitty boyfriend, though, and they didn’t last long.”
Did you love them? Did you compare them to me? Did you come close to claiming either of them? All the questions piled up, but she was too chicken to ask, so instead, Harper finished off her margarita and asked Kane for another.
“I liked your text last night,” Kane said as he poured the tequila. “I figured it was you who responded.”
“How’d you figure that,” she slurred.
Kane grinned. His dark hair fell forward, covering his glasses as he squeezed a lime into her drink. “Because Wyatt’s never sent me a dick-pic before.”
“Wait, what?” Wyatt asked, pulling his phone from his back pocket.
“It was a cartoon dick,” Harper said. “And furthermore I have dated, like, a million boys.”
“Boys or men?” Kane asked.
“Stay out of it,” she groused.
“A million is a lot,” Wyatt said, and now anger flashed through his eyes like lightning. “I told you I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to know.”
“Age twenty, I dated Laith Ingram, and we French kissed. A lot.”