Evan
Brooke and I were at one of our favourite bars after dinner. I don’t know what it felt like to Brooke, but it reminded me of a date when we were at dinner. Maybe I am imagining things. I would keep it to myself, though, because we aren’t dating.
I am sitting at our table while Brooke is at the bar, ordering our drinks. She insisted it was her round. I would have happily bought them, but Brooke didn’t like the fact that I paid for dinner and the first two rounds. She thought it was only fair she took a turn. I know better than arguing with her when her mind is made up.
I glance over at the bar because it seems to take longer than she should get drinks. I soon see she isn’t alone. There is some guy next to her. He is flirting with her. Who the f**k is that? I turn my attention to B
