Edge of Chaos (Love on the Edge #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

pulled out my cell phone from underneath my register and stared at it for a few moments, contemplating the right way to invite Justin. I knew he wouldn’t come out, not with his boys’ night in full force, but I also knew he’d want me to go home and study. Not go to a bar. The idea of getting to know Dash—a person I’d admired and respected, who also shared my field of study—filled me with a confidence I hadn’t experienced before. I finally shot Justin a quick text, and then proceeded to do my closing duties.
    Forty-five minutes later I clocked out and headed to my car. I glanced at my phone for the first time since I’d texted Justin. Six missed calls. My heart pounded a little harder in my chest. Six calls on a COD night was unheard of.
    “Hey, you ready?” Dash leaned against his black F150, his hands in his jeans pockets.
    “Sure,” I said, stopping at my car parked a few spaces away.
    He gave me a nod and hopped in his truck. I dialed Justin’s number while following Dash out of the parking lot.
    He answered after the first ring.
    “What do you mean you’re going to a bar?” he snapped.
    “Hello to you, too.” A loud mixture of male banter and video game gunfire boomed in the background.
    “Don’t get cute with me, Blake. Why in the hell are you going to a bar?”
    “To hang out with some people from class. What’s the big deal? You’re with your friends tonight,” I said, sighing.
    “That’s different.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “I’m not getting drunk with a bunch of college assholes.”
    No, you’re getting drunk with a bunch of drop-out assholes. “I’m not going to get drunk, and they’re not assholes. What’s the problem?”
    “I know you. Ten to one you’re not meeting a bunch of sorority girls.”
    “They’re guys from my class and their girlfriends. You could meet us there, you know.” I continued to follow Dash’s truck, which took me on the familiar route toward campus.
    “I shouldn’t have to do that,” he said, the anger in his voice mounting.
    “You’re right. You shouldn’t have to come out with your girlfriend on a Friday night. You should want to,” I snapped and instantly regretted it. Where had my fight-filter vanished to?
    “I can’t believe you’re choosing to do this over your responsibilities. You should be studying, and if not that then you should be here.”
    I gripped the steering-wheel harder, waiting for the guilt that normally hit me when he pulled those lines. It didn’t come. “My classes are under control, and you don’t even notice me when COD is up.”
    “Whatever. This is bullshit. Hope you have a great time tonight. Try not to get roofied.” He hung up.
    My mouth dropped, and I scoffed at my cell phone, resisting the urge to throw it out the window. I opted instead to shove it in my purse and crank up my stereo.
    Going out with a storm chaser from class who had arms that tornadoes would change course for wasn’t wrong. I was an aspiring meteorologist. It was networking. Despite repeating this to myself, I was still fuming when I parked next to Dash’s truck in front of the bar.
    The small brick building had a lone neon sign hanging out front. Posters with specials plastered the windows, and Dash held the door open for me as we walked in. The smell of cigarettes and fried food instantly hit me as we entered. Music blared from speakers in the corners of the small room, and a wooden bar took up most of the space. To the left were a few round-top tables with red leather bar stools and a shuffleboard pressed against the wall behind them.
    The place was packed with people, most in OU shirts. Chatter joined the music bouncing off the walls, drowning out the angry thoughts in my head. Dash gently touched my lower back, sending another spark soaring through me. I tried not to freak out that the creator of the website I practically stalked guided me to a tall, round-top-table in the back next to the shuffleboard.
    The other two guys from