Chapter Eight
I fall into the booth, sweaty and exhausted and in desperate need of another drink.
“Are you working on your moves at home or something?” Mikey falls in right next to me, waving his hand to his friend who’s ventured to the bar instead of our booth. “Grab two.”
His friend nods. A friend who’s gotten handsy with me a few times on the dance floor, but he’s not bad looking. If I would just stop thinking about that DVD and Dean, I’d probably take him home with me.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask Mikey, sitting up straighter.
“Nope. Hands off.” He shakes his head.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m not listening to another friend whine about you blowing them off.”
“Who me?” I act offended although he only speaks the truth.
“Yeah, you.” He laughs and sits up straighter, playing with the
