Free Seasons of Change by Olivia Stephens

and it seems like you’re trying to prove a point. A firm shake which doesn’t involve trying to crush the other person’s fingers is a happy medium and I’m pleased to find that Nic’s shake passes the Winters’ test.
     
    “I’m Aimee,” I reply, and raise the beer bottle again. “Thanks for the drink,” I tell him, not sure what flirting etiquette tells me should happen next.
     
    “So, do you come here a lot?” he asks, the cringing expression on his face as soon as the words are out of his mouth telling me that he’s fully aware of how clichéd that sounds.
     
    “Well, there aren’t a whole heap of other places to choose from,” I joke, and we both chuckle nervously.
     
    “So was that guy your boyfriend?” he asks, segueing straight into the reason that he’s come over here in the first place.
     
    “If you thought that he was, then why did you start flirting with me?” I ask, surprised at my own confidence.
     
    “I didn’t. You guys just looked like friends, but then he seemed to get a little annoyed when I sent over the drink so I wanted to check that I hadn’t read the signals wrong.” He shrugs and I’m impressed at his honesty.
     
    “No, your signals aren’t off,” I admit to him. “We’re just friends.” I feel that familiar ache of disappointment as I say the words and wish that they weren’t as true as I know they are.
     
    “Well don’t you two look cozy.” Jake’s says from behind me, and both Nic and I look over at him. “Well Aimee, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?” he asks, an edge to his voice that I don’t like the sound of.
     
    “Jake, this is Nic. Nic, this is my friend Jake.” I make the introductions and try to pretend that I haven’t noticed the hostility that’s radiating off of Jake.
     
    Both men shake hands and I can see from the way that they’re sizing each other up that this is turning into a dick measuring contest and I couldn’t be any less interested. “So, Nic, what’s your deal?” Jake asks, crossing his arms and, if I’m not imagining it, puffing out his chest a little.
     
    “My deal?” Nic repeats, looking between Jake and me as if he’s trying to figure out what it is that he’s missed. I can’t help him as I feel about as in the dark as he clearly does.
     
    “Yeah, what are you doing here? You trying to pick my friend here up?” Jake asks combatively, the hostility no longer something that I’m just imagining.
     
    “Jake,” I say to him. He’s really out of line.
     
    “Look man, I didn’t want to interrupt anything,” Nic says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t realize you guys were together,” he adds, looking between Jake and me.
     
    “We’re not,” I say quickly, and I ignore the look that Jake gives me. “We’re not together, we’re just friends,” I repeat. “But it looks like my friend woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning, so I’m sorry, Nic,” I tell him. I feel Jake quietly fuming next to me.
     
    “No worries,” Nic says uncertainly. “I’ll leave you two alone. No offense intended, man,” he says to Jake, who responds with a curt nod as Nic returns to his position at the end of the bar, signaling for Noah to bring him the check.
     
    “Well that was rude,” I tell Jake, not pulling any punches and rounding on him as soon as Nic is out of earshot.
     
    “Exactly.” Jake shakes his head. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We were just here having a few quiet drinks and he had to interrupt with his whole ‘Hey baby, can I buy you a drink?’ crap,” he says, as if Nic had personally offended him.
     
    “I wasn’t talking about him, dipshit,” I hiss at Jake, “I was talking about you. You were the one being rude”
     
    “I was just here, minding my own business, having a drink with my friend .” The way he says the word makes it sound like he’s questioning the term. “And he’s trying to make a move on