Page 6 of Sour Notes

“Mia.” He nods, green hair flopping onto his forehead before he leans in to nuzzle Haven’s temple. This guy’s so gone for his girl. I don’t know many men who would let their partner dye their hair lime green for a Halloween party.

“Well aren’t you two adorable with your couples costume.”

Haven giggles in response before looking up at Axel and kissing him on the jaw. They are so sickeningly in love, they almost make me believe in it too.

But let’s be real, that shit is rare. I thought I’d found it once, but I was badly mistaken. I’d have more luck finding a unicorn farting rainbows.

And as much as I adore these two, I don’t want to be a third wheel tonight. It’s been forever since I’ve seen any action, and all their PDA has a habit of getting me into trouble.

The bad kind.

Trouble like fucking one of your best friends, aka your playboy roommate, in a bar restroom because you were drunk enough to think it was a great idea.

And you know what the worst part is? The sex was so good, I can’t get it out of my mind even after he made it awkward, throwing some kinda pity date invitation at me mid-fuck.

God, that still pisses me off.

I need to find some less complicated fun tonight so I stop accidentally fantasizing about the one guy I shouldn’t.

Shaking my head, I focus on the lovebirds again. “Are the others around?”

Haven grimaces in response. “Kim’s running late, babysitter didn’t show or something. Lucas is sniffing around Morticia over there, and since Swayze hasn’t arrived with you, I’m guessing he’s still at work. Let’s go get a drink. I loooove the outfit, by the way. Blonde suits you.”

“Well, you know what they say about blondes having more fun…” I wink at her and we laugh linking arms to walk to the bar. I guess it’s just me, myself and I, third wheeling for now.

Kim better show up.

Hell, I’d even settle for Swayze at this point. We used to have the best time before our little blip made things so weird.

I miss that.

I guess I miss…him, which is a ridiculous thing to say when I live with the guy, but them’s the breaks.

Yeah, no. We’re not spiraling down that rabbit hole again without a little lube.

It’s cocktail time.

Maybe it’s user error, but sliding onto the barstool is a whole ass new experience tonight.

“Stay down, fucker.” Yup, I’m scolding tulle like a crazy person, finger-pointing and all, because apparently an engineering degree is required to shove the thick, rigid swathes of white tulle under my thighs. It’s almost impossible. Hell, I’ve probably flashed half the bar at this rate so the cute little Bride of Chucky mini dress proooobably wasn’t my best fashion choice. But then again, it’s not every day you get to throw on a blonde wig, leather jacket and rock the thigh high fuck me boots.

I’m ready to cut loose.

I order a poisoned apple martini, before turning on the stool to scan the bar, taking in the dim lighting, smoke, and cobwebs everywhere giving it a creepy haunted feel.

Jett goes all out for Halloween and I damn well intend to enjoy it.

Especially since it’s been the worst week.

I’ve been on not one, but three dead-end MatchNote dates this week.

Three!

MatchNote lies. They say it has the most “matches” of any dating app currently out there.

It’s not even a free app. You pay for the privilege of this shit, and so far I’d have more luck trying to hold a conversation with a blow up boyfriend.

Inflatable Ian would probably have more game too.