Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Thirty: Not My Fault You Were Born Incomplete

"I need to start liking warm beer," Zoe declared, opening the freezer and dumping a six-pack directly in the trash. "It's either that or no beer at all."

"No beer at all sounds better," Josh said, completely unsympathetic. "Beer's bad for you."

The vertically-challenged Zoe put a hand on her hip, which just made her look disturbingly like a teapot with the mix between her pixie cut and the longish voile skirt she was wearing. Josh fought not to laugh, aware he'd get in trouble for it.

"Oh, really? So are energy drinks. You're more likely to have a heart attack or develop diabetes from your drinks than I am to get sick by drinking the same amount of beer." Her eyes narrowed. "And a little empathy wouldn't go amiss, you psychopath."

Josh was in an exceedingly good mood after the week he'd had, caused by his newfound dynamic with Emery. He grinned. "Here's me developing empathy: let's go for a beer run."

Zoe stared, hand falling from her hip in astonishment. "A beer run? You? Voluntarily? I'm not sure I can handle so many changes in the great Josh Winters in a single month."

"It's not entirely selfless. You're paying for my company with all the Ibiza stories you've kept from these guys." His tone was smug.

Fifteen minutes later, as they left the bodega, Zoe announced, "You've brought great honor upon yourself and your ancestors. Thou shalt be named Josh, the Beer Bard."

He snorted. "Beer Bard is awful! Is that an expression you caught in Ibiza?"

"Nope. All I caught in Ibiza was sunshine and scores of hot Spanish men." She opened her arms wide, proof Josh carried all the beers he didn't even drink, and twirled in delight, head facing the night sky. A pointed, mischief-colored look completed the ensemble, making her look like a pixie more than ever. "You'd have liked it, I think."

Josh laughed along with her, but something in the sound of his own laughter didn't ring true. It was funny, no question, but... Before Emery he'd have felt genuine enthusiasm at the 'scores of hot Spanish men' she mentioned. These days, when he couldn't even bring himself to pick up a hot local man to have some meaningless fun with, he just felt pathetic. If he'd been the one flying to Ibiza he'd probably have spent his time finding the male equivalent of a chastity belt and attaching it to himself or something. And now he felt depressed.

"Jesus Christ," she said, "I've never seen anyone look so miserable at the thought of hot Spanish men. There were other nationalities too, I promise."

A huff of more genuine laughter despite himself. "Spanish will do nicely, really." Whatever sense of personal boundaries he'd had fled; that was the only conceivable explanation for the next words that came out of his mouth. "Did you release them back into the ocean as soon as you caught them, or did you actually eat any of them?"

Zoe spluttered, amused. "You didn't just ask me that!"

"No, you're right, I didn't," Josh was quick to assure, mortified. "I think I left my brain at Mark's."

"So forget you ever asked?" She was offering him a graceful way out, proving that even pixies had mercy.

"Yes, please." Mark's building was already in sight. Five more minutes and they'd be surrounded by company, hopefully preventing him from further sticking his foot in it.

"'Kay. I won't tell you how I went through three boxes of condoms in a week, then," she said sweetly, in a sing-song voice. "That's boxes of twelve, if you're counting."

Oh, for the love of — What did one reply to that? He was still formulating a response when his mouth took control without his input once again. "Not even a thought for dripping-wet Dan in the rain?"