An Extra Pump of Sugar

Chapter 16

On our way home, we decided to stop and grab some food at The Happy Cabin. It was an ancient relic of a thing, and most Reno locals had become inebriated here at least once in their lives. But it wasn't just its historic significance that made the saloon so beloved. Hanging from the ceiling was a junkyard of memorabilia and western artifacts, from suspended wooden wagons to cowboy saddles and laminated wanted posters. Plus, its generous student discounts made it a popular choice among freshly legal adults.

Theo and I pushed through the heavy pine doors, inhaling the scent of beer stains, fries, and antique furniture. But mere seconds after setting foot on the sticky hardwood, Theo's spine went rigid, and I was pretty sure he stopped breathing.

At first, I thought he was just overstimulated by all the neon signs and precarious objects dangling over our heads, but then I followed his gaze to a group of girls and quickly identified the source of his nausea.

The blond girl from the New Year's Eve party leaned against a high top table, kicking back a shot of liquor with her three friends. This time, tear tracks didn't stain her face, and her tan skin glowed with highlighter, sweat, and the vibrant orange lighting above the bar.

Alyssa.

I cast a worried glance at Theo. "Should we leave?"

He shook his head, tearing his eyes from the group and walking toward an open booth at the back of the restaurant. "If she's uncomfortable, she can go. This is my favorite dive bar."

He steered us away from his ex, but not before the girls caught sight of us. They tensed in unison, raising their hackles like a cackle of hyenas ready to pounce, and I immediately glanced elsewhere, terrified at the thought of a drunken confrontation.

My whole body whirred with apprehension as we weaved through the restaurant, away from Alyssa and crew—away from Theo's past.

"I need alcohol," Theo grumbled as soon as we claimed our table. "What do you want?"

"A strawberry margarita."

"They come in those giant fucking goblets here," he warned.

"Yeah. I know."

He gave a sympathetic grunt and stalked away. A deep frown contorted his face, irritation brewing in his eyes, and I wished he would abandon his pride for the evening. There were plenty of pubs to patronize at this hour; we didn't need to be here stirring up trouble.

I kept my gaze anywhere but the table of glaring girls, but Carl sank his teeth into my spine. Alyssa was still staring at me—I could sense it.

Shit. Don't come over here.

Please, please don't come over here.

I threw a quick glance in her direction, watching the blond scrutinize Theo at the bar and wrestle with the idea of approaching him. And then she moved for me instead.

Fuck me...

Alyssa waltzed over to our booth and, to my utter horror, slid into the seat across from me. She tilted her head at me, assessing my appearance in some strange attempt to assert dominance, and I couldn't believe she was reducing us to a real-life Bechdel test.

Since when had my life become a serialized drama that revolved around a man and his unclaimed baggage?

The coward in me wanted to call out to Theo for help. Code red! Code red! Your psycho ex is on the loose!

But Theo wasn't the only one drowning in pride.

"...Can I help you?" I asked after my guest failed to introduce herself.