Second Chance Boyfriend

his retreating back, wondering what the hell spurred that comment on. What did I do to deserve his anger? Isn’t he the one who ditched me?
    I refuse to feel guilty. I refuse to chase after him and ask him why. Ask him if he’s okay. Ask him if he’s still talking to that horrendous bitch who fucked up his head so thoroughly.
    Furious, I grab my empty tray and gather beer bottles, stacking them onto the tray until they’re rolling back and forth, clanking against one another. Jen finally enters the room, oblivious to the ruckus that just played out only minutes earlier, and I smile in relief when she approaches.
    “Why is it so quiet in here?” she asks.
    “A couple of them almost got into a fight.” I decided not to mention the fight was about me.
    Jen rolls her eyes and starts to help me clear the tables. “Figures. Get a bunch of testosterone-laden men in close proximity and watch them beat their chests until they prove who’s the mightiest of them all.”
    I don’t answer, continue to clean up and then stalk out of the room toward the bar, where I dump everything in the trash, the bottles again clanking together so loudly the sound satisfies me immensely. Irritation makes me want growl at anyone who so much as looks in my direction.
    Shit. I’m dying for a smoke.
    “What’s your problem?” T appears out of nowhere, startling me.
    “Uh…” I don’t know what to say. Don’t want to bitch for fear of looking like I can’t handle my job. Don’t want to tell her what happened either since she might ask me why they were fighting and how I became involved.
    So instead, I shrug. “Men suck.”
    Well. That’s close enough to the truth.
    Her expression changes to pure sympathy. “Yeah, they do. Listen. Go cool off for a few. You look ready to blow a gasket.”
    “But I just took a break—”
    “I’ll cover for you. You’ve got five minutes.” T smiles, pats my arm and heads for the private party room.
    And I dart outside for that much needed smoke.

 
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    None of your scars can make me love you less. – Unknown
     
    Drew
     
    She’s gone. One minute she’s in the same fucking room as me, breathing the same air, and then Ty Webster has to act like a disgusting pig and insult her. The girl I love. The girl who I haven’t been with in so long, just seeing her steals my breath and hurts my heart.
    So I did what any guy would’ve done to defend his girl. I went after Ty. Was ready to beat the shit out of him too, until all my teammates came at us to break us up. And Fable. Staring at me, grabbing me and trying to pull me off of him. I let her. I looked her right in the eyes and listened to her soft pleas. I left Ty alone all for her.
    I would’ve also kicked his ass for her. Even though she’s not really my girl anymore.
    And whose fault is that?
    “Dude, you need to go apologize to Ty.” Logan is in my face, looking a little more sober. I think the argument sobered up a lot of us. “I can’t have my friends fighting on my birthday.”
    “Tell him to apologize to Fable and then we’ll talk.” I shake my head, my earlier buzz gone, gone, gone. Which sucks, because it helped me forget, even for a little while.
    But then she had to walk into the room. Beautiful and sexy, and everything I’ve ever wanted. Something was a little off about her appearance, though. She looked like my Fable yet…she didn’t.
    “Who the hell is Fable?” Logan frowns.
    “The waitress he called a whore.” I can barely get the word out I’m so pissed.
    Logan sighed. “You know how he is. Chicks don’t mean shit to him.”
    “Yeah, well, he needs to learn some respect.” Before I’m tempted to go back and finish what I started with Ty, I leave the room, head down the narrow hall, where I spot a door that leads outside to the back of the restaurant. I need to cool off. Get my head back together. Maybe just flat-out bail.
    I’m sure no one wants me around anymore. I tried to start a fight with one of my teammates over a girl they all consider a whore, and that kills me. Bros before hos and all that other bullshit.
    No matter that we’re not really together anymore, Fable will always come first.
    I push open the door and find myself in a narrow alley. The unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke lingers in the air and I glance to my right to find her. Fable. Sitting on the edge of an overturned giant plastic crate, puffing away on a cancer stick like it’s her last