Read For Real (Rules of Love, Book One) for Free Online Page B

want. The least I can do is offer you a ride.” He’d already given me a ride, let me crash at his house, let me force him to watch Mean Girls , kissed the back of my head and my hip and made me nachos. Any more and I’m going to have to owe him, or at least send a thank you card.
    “Please,” he says, cutting off my protest.
    “Okay, but no more, or else I’m going to owe you.” Am I flirting with him? Was that flirty? I’m a really bad judge on that kind of thing.
    “I think I could be okay with that,” he says in a low voice with a half-smile. And the world ceases to spin. Or at least it feels that way.
    “Oh, you want me to owe you?” Where the hell did that come from? Whatever, I’m going with it.
    He bites the corner of his lip and then his phone rings again.
    “Yeah, we should go.”

 
     
     
     
     

     
    We pull up to a bar that’s the definition of “seedy”. I don’t really know where that term comes from, but I know it when I see it. This is it. I didn’t even know this bar existed.
    Tucked into the corner of an intersection with a tattoo shop on one side and an abandoned building on the other, the brick front is crumbling, and covered in graffiti and a cacophony of neon signs for various beers. The door is propped open by a bucket filled with cigarette butts.
    “Classy,” I say under my breath. Jett just pulls over to the side of the bar and parks.
    “I don’t know if it’s safer for you to stay in the car, or come with.” I don’t either. A few of the people hanging outside look like lost cast members from Sons of Anarchy . Are there Motorcycle Clubs in Maine? There must be.
    “I think I’ll come with,” I say and he gives me a look that says, “Are you sure?”
    I fish in my purse and bring out my pink Leatherman tool.
    “What’s that for?” Jett says.
    “You can never be too careful. Also, it has a bottle opener.” I hold it up and pull out some of the tools to show him before we get out of the car. He automatically takes my hand, and I can’t tell if it’s to keep me close so I don’t get lost in the crowd, or for some other reason.
    There’s no one at the door checking IDs, which is probably why there are several girls that barely look like they made it out of high school going gangbusters on the dance floor. Jett scans the room for Javier, but I’m having trouble seeing over everyone’s heads.
    The place smells like moldy cigarettes and sticky beer with a hint of puke and sweat. They should call it The Dive. It’s also so hot in here that it’s almost steamy. Jesus, get me out of here. I grip my improvised knife, ready to attack if need be.
    “There he is,” Jett says, pointing across the room where Javier has the girl with the non-dress dress shoved up against the wall. Thankfully, there are people in front of them to block my view, or else I probably could see if her vagina has a face.
    Jett tugs me through the pulsing bodies and over to Javier and the girl.
    “Javi, time to go,” Jett says, clamping his hand on Javier’s shoulder and pulling his face away from the girl with a sound like a suction cup being pulled off the wall. This is why I’m single. Gross.
    “Hey, man. What are you doing here?” At least I think that’s what he says. I’m not fluent in Drunkish.
    “Time to go home, Javi.” Jett practically spits the words out, and for the first time I glimpse something hard in him. Intense. Don’t-fuck-with-me.
    I don’t understand what Javier says next, but then he notices me. I’ve been huddling into Jett because I’d rather huddle with him than with a creepy stranger, especially since my ass has already gotten slapped twice.
    He slurs something at me and the girl glares and Jett starts yanking him away while still holding my hand.
    Jett tows me and Javier through the bar and back out into the fresh air. Somehow Javier manages to stay on his feet, but as soon as we get to the car, he slumps against it. The girl is MIA. We’d lost her