The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(62)

“I think we should go out,” Zoey said, staring at me from across the living room.

I grunted, continuing to devour rocky road ice cream from the half-pint carton in my lap. The whole plan to get Brogan off my mind had tanked the second I’d stepped out of work. A person passed by with a dog that looked like Bruce, and I’d effectively lost all interest in doing anything but sulking on the couch. I’d been doing a fantastic job at this task for the past week.

She eyed me. “You’re starting to scare me, cave girl. Use your words.”

I glanced up at her, the spoon still in my mouth. “Me no want go out.”

“Much better. We’ll work on correct pronoun usage another day.”

I shot her a look. I was completely fine binging on ice cream and Netflix. Definitely not gummy worms, though, because that would make me think of Brogan and how he hated anything with ingredients that couldn’t be pronounced.

“Seriously, whatever happened, you just need to shake it off. It’s Friday. Scientifically speaking, we are never going to be as hot as we are now, and we need to use that to our advantage to get free drinks while we can.”

“This is supposed to make me feel better?” I said.

“No, it’s supposed to get you off the couch.” She took the ice cream off my lap and placed it on the coffee table, and then grabbed my wrists and pulled me to my feet.

“Hey, I was just about to watch the swan episode on Gilmore Girls.”

“Jess’s black eye can wait. Let’s go to Dean’s. We don’t even have to drink if you don’t want to, but you have to stay out for at least forty minutes.”

“Can I go in this?”

She smirked and gave my ratty OSU sweatshirt and stained sweatpants a once-over. “Only if you want to prevent us from getting hit on.”

“Then I’m good to go.” The last thing I wanted to think about tonight was impressing men.

She gave me a playful shove toward my bedroom. “Go get dressed. It’ll be good to be hit on by men who are emotionally available and vulnerable in their drunken state.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Because that doesn’t sound predatory or anything.”

“Put some real pants on,” she shouted as I walked into my room.

A few minutes later, I walked out in skinny jeans, purple chucks, and my favorite AC/DC T-shirt. Zoey smiled and nodded. “Much better. Now we at least have a chance at not paying for drinks tonight.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have to drink.”

She shrugged. “You don’t have to, but I wouldn’t mind one.”

Before we locked up the apartment, I grabbed my coat and phone, my credit card and ID, opting to forgo a purse in case I got drunk enough to decide to dance.

A line wrapped along the side of Dean’s as we strode up to the building. Rock music boomed out of the open door, blocked by a black velvet rope and a stacked bouncer talking to an equally muscular guy in a very nice fitting suit.

“Good thing I brought my coat.” At the rate Mr. Muscles was letting people into the bar, I’d be a Popsicle by the time we were admitted into the place.

“You won’t need it for long.” She grabbed my arm and led me to the front of the line.

Closer up, the neon lights from the window shone on the man in the suit. He had extraordinarily high cheekbones and muscles stacked on his muscles. I’d have recognized him sooner if he’d had his shirt off, because it was none other than Shirtless Dude—er, Ryder.

His sullen look changed to a megawatt smile the second he spotted my best friend. “Zoey!” He beamed, and heck if I didn’t hear her let out a soft sigh in response.

Apparently we had a lot of catching up to do, because this was the same look Bruce got when we passed the neighbor’s poodle.

He nodded to the bouncer, and he opened one side of the velvet rope and motioned us in. “Have a good time tonight. If you need anything, I’ll be around.” He winked down at her, and it was my turn to sigh.

I bumped her with my elbow. “I see things are going well with Ryder?”

Her smile vanished the moment I mentioned his name. “It’s purely professional. We work together, that’s it.”

“Please tell me by ‘work’ you mean ‘in his pants.’”

Her shoulders tensed, and a line creased the skin between her eyes. “No. We’re just friends. Barely.”

I looked at her. “Oh, girl. You obviously don’t see the way he’s looking at you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just because he’s flirty does not mean he’s interested. He acts that way around everyone.”

“And he winds up shirtless at ten in the morning at people’s houses, too?”

She flushed.

Ha. I got your number, Zoey Reynolds.

Yeah, no. I wasn’t convinced, but wasn’t going to push it any further. She’d been nice enough not to get into my business—because I certainly didn’t want to admit I was on the losing end of this whole fling deal. Nope, tonight was about hitting the reset button on life. We were here to hang out, just like we did in college, and that beer was sounding pretty good right about now. Who cared if Brogan’s wine beat a Blue Moon, hands down? Certainly not me.

We managed to find two spots at the bar and plunked down our coats on the back of our stools. The bartender bustled over to us almost immediately and placed two napkins on the granite.