All In
him. He’s taller than he seemed earlier today, and
his hair is messier than it had been too. If it’s possible, he’s
even more gorgeous out of his waiter’s uniform. He’s wearing a pair
of dark jeans hung low on his hips, a fitted plain white tee shirt,
and a light blue zip up hooded sweatshirt that matches his eyes
exactly. I look away, worried I’m staring, when I realize I’m still
holding his hand. I drop it like it’s seared my skin, then
immediately miss the warmth of it.
    “I’m Lane,” he says and there’s a
tightness in his voice, like he’s speaking through a clenched
jaw.
    I wonder briefly if I’ve offended him
somehow by letting go of his hand so abruptly until I feel the
silky lining of a dress coat being placed over my shoulders. I can
smell Gregory’s cologne, and it makes my nose wrinkle it’s so
strong.
    “What the hell are you doing here?”
Gregory asks Lane from behind me, his hands resting on my
arms.
    “Whoa, dude, what’s your problem? I
invited him.” Andrew jumps in, looking back and forth between
Gregory and Lane, confused as to what the problem is.
    “You invited the help?”
    “Dude, I’m outta here,” Lane says,
turning to leave until Andrew stops him.
    “Don’t listen to him. I rarely do,”
Andrew jokes, before he pulls Lane away and over to a cherry red
convertible that I assume is his.
    I turn on my heel and level Gregory
with my eyes. “You can’t speak to people like that.” I shrug off
his coat and hand it back to him with some force.
    “Ashley, you can’t be serious.” I hear
Gregory say as I walk away and over to where my brother, Lane, and
a few other guys are now hanging out, leaving Gregory by
himself.
    “Sorry about that guy. He can be a
real dick sometimes,” Andrew says to Lane when I walk up. That’s an
understatement. And I think after this afternoon, Lane is well
aware of that fact.
    “No joke. That jerk got me
fired today. Well, I guess technically it was my fault
considering I cleaned his fork with my spit after all.”
    “You’re kidding?” Andrew says, nearly
spitting his drink out from laughing.
    “No, it’s true, but I think he was
more ticked off I made him look like an idiot in front of his date
than anything else.” Lane glances in my direction for a split
second before looking away again and I want to correct him
immediately. It most definitely was not a date, but Andrew cuts in
before I can say a word.
    “Oh man, I bet he was so pissed. He
absolutely hates not getting his way.” Andrew leans against the car
next to Lane and gives him another fist bump. “Nice.”
    The crowd around Lane’s car grows, as
more and more people come over to admire it, until Gregory saunters
over but is met with uncomfortable silence, which he tries to
fill.
    “Whose car?” he asks nonchalantly,
like it’s not obvious who it belongs to.
    “Nice, huh?” Andrew says.
“Fast.”
    Gregory looks it over before turning
his nose up. “Maybe. But I doubt it’s as fast as mine,” he says
with his shoulders pushed back and his chest puffed out.
Guys.
    “How about we put it to the test?”
Andrew crosses his arms as he looks at Gregory, but his smile tells
me everything I need to know. If Andrew says it’s fast, I tend to
believe him, and I imagine Gregory should too.
    “His car against mine?” Gregory gives
a dismissive nod towards Lane’s car. “Sure, I’ll take that bet,” he
says with an arrogant laugh, like Lane’s car, and Lane, by
extension, is just some kind of joke.
    Lane looks behind Gregory and gestures
to his car. “I assume that silver BMW M-5 is yours?” Then, under
his breath, I swear I hear Lane say ‘figures’ before he plasters a
smile on his face. “Then it’s a bet,” Lane steps into Gregory’s
space, his posture issuing a challenge. “What’ya say? A hundred
bucks?”
    “Oooooh, a hundred bucks. Big
spender.” Gregory smirks as a few people laugh at his taunt. He
pulls out his wallet and thumbs through
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