Page 53 of The Great Dating Fake Off
I’m Chet.
Brad.
Rick.
Roy.
Alessia sticks close to my side, side-eying the overly friendly ones.
I’m dancing with my first two-syllable name of the night when Alessia pipes up beside me. “Well, if it isn’t the yees to our haws.”
I track her line of sight as Jessie—I think it was Jessie—lifts me from a dip.
Sergio blasts through the saloon doors, hot on Enzo’s tail. A ruddy-facedBenji enters next with Sebastian close behind.
My stomach drops to the ground.
Sebastian is in masterfully crafted jeans—thank you Levi or Wrangler or whoever did this—cuffed over a style of boot that toes the line between utilitarian and suave. His thick hair is a little wild. A green button-up hangs open over a white undershirt, the sleeves rolled up tight around his biceps.
My foot is two-stepped on by a boot.
Alessia’s hands fly out to steady me and steal me away from the cowboy whose name I’ve already forgotten.
“You can’t stop moving on the dance floor, silly. You’ll wind up like Mufasa.” She drags me to the edge of the scuffed floor out of the way of dance traffic. “I guess there weren’t many other options for bars in this small town.”
Enzo’s lassoing the air and yelling something I can’t hear from here. Sergio smacks him on the back and points at something. Benji leans an elbow on Sebastian’s shoulder, which for him is like third base in a friendship.
I clap a hand to my face. “Oh my God. Is Benji drunk?”
“I don’t know, but my brother sure is.”
They attack this place like bats out of hell, nearly skipping as they close in on the bar, drawing the attention of every woman in spitting distance.
I can’t take my eyes off Sebastian, who seems considerably more composed than the rest of the boys as he swaggers behind. “Let’s go say hi!” I chirp, lightheaded. “You know, to check on Benji.”
“Yeah, let’s go give them shit.” She cups her hands. “Oye, Ro, Gia—the guys are here!”
Ro drops her cowboys like a hot potato. Gia waves us on as the guy in the Stetson swings her around like she’s weightless.
Alessia steps over the rope that delineates the dance floor from the bar area. Ro and I are right on her heels. Alessia’s hair toes the line between red and purple in this light, and I keep my eyes on it as we follow.
The crowd jostles as the bartender rings the tip bell, and we slip in the hole it creates.
“Shit, that’s my phone.” Alessia wheels around and scrounges it from her pocket. “It’s louder than a cat in heat in here, I gotta take this outside.”
She jogs off, boots clanking against the ground.
“Hey Mazzelli!” Ro hollers. Her words are lightly slurred.
Enzo, whose elbows are planted on the bar, looks over his broad shoulder. “Baby? Is that you?” His face lights up like he’s seeing Ro for the first time following a harrowing separation. They must not have known we’d be here. “Make way for my beautiful bride, everyone!”
Ro squeals as she moves toward him. He extends one arm and scoops her up, driving her lower back into the bar. He wraps a possessive hand around her chin as his mouth covers hers. People whoop and holler as she throws her arm around his neck, and the bartender rings the tip bell above the cash register to add to the fanfare. Even Benji cheers with one hearty clap.
I muscle my way between Benji and Sebastian. Benji faces me, but every cell in my body is overly aware that Sebastian is an inch from my back. “Are you drunk, Sugar Cheeks?”
Benji lifts an arm to get the bartender’s attention. “Good news, Nora! I like whiskey now.”
Sebastian swoops his head a little lower, closer to my ear as Blake Shelton yells at us from an overhead speaker. “He’s plastered. They all are.”
