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“I’ll be waiting for you outside the shop.”

“Bless you,” Haisley replies, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Too bad you’re way too young for me because you’re such a fine man, Oliver whatever-your-middle-name-is Braxton.”

I snort. “I’m not that young. And it’s Richard.”

Haisley laughs, loud and delighted. “You’re twenty-seven,” she says. “That’s practically a fetus in my dating age range, sweetie.”

“Twenty-eight next month,” I correct, rolling my eyes even if she can’t see me.

“Still too young. I don’t date younger men out of principle. How tragic for both of us.”

Shaking my head again, I smile to myself. That’s Haisley in a nutshell. I’ve always liked her; she’s fearless and impossible to embarrass. There’s an ease in our banter and mutual understanding that nothing beyond friendship will ever come of the light flirting, but that doesn’t make it any less fun. As she pointed out, I’m too young for her liking and getting involved would be a disaster.

“I’ll be downstairs, waiting for you,” I repeat.

“Your girl is lucky.”

The line clicks dead before I have a chance to correct her. I have to admit, hearing her call Peyton “my girl” feels nice. Slightly flustering, but undeniably nice.

I tuck the phone into my pocket and step onto the sidewalk, letting the summer night breeze hit my face. A moment later, the cab pulls up and laughter spills out as Haisley spots me.

“My hero!” she calls, stumbling out of the open passenger door and throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “Damn, you smell good enough to eat.”

I step back enough to keep the interaction friendly. “Careful,” I say with mock seriousness, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to give me a complex or something.”

Haisley wobbles on her feet, uncontrollable laughter bubbling out of her. “Now let’s get your girl.”

There it is again—your girl. I should deny it, say anything of the sort, but words die on my tongue. I follow her to the other side of the cab and she swings the door open, revealing a very drunk Peyton.

She blinks and squints in my direction. “Ollie?”

“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You okay?”

She nods too fast. “Yes. Totally. I’m just tired.”

Haisley snorts. “She’s lying.”

“I am not!”

I hold out my hand. “Come on, Miss California. Let’s get you home.”

Her fingers slip into mine, grip tightening. I steady her as she pushes off the seat, her balance teetering for a second before she leans into me.

“You got her?” Soph asks.

“I’ve got her,” I confirm, my arm tightening around her waist.

Haisley leans in and presses a loud kiss to Peyton’s cheek. “Text me when you wake up. We have so much to unpack and a lesson plan to put together.”

Peyton groans dramatically. “Nooo.”

“Yes!” Haisley announces triumphantly as she climbs back into the cab, pointing a manicured nail in our direction. “Take care of her, Ollie Boy.”

“I will.”

She studies me for a heartbeat, then smiles, softer than before. “I know you will.”

Peyton leans against me as we climb up the stairs and into the apartment. She kicks off her shoes, walks to the living room and sinks down onto the couch with a long sigh. “Wow. Everything is spinning.” She laughs, tipping her head back. “I had fun.”