Met My Man When I Was Broke

CHAPTER5

CHAPTER 5

The bar was buzzing loud tonight—Saturday night energy in full swing. The place was packed, music pounding, and the air thick with laughter and smoke. My friends were all here: Rael, Adam, Eight, and Lowen—the usual crew.

I popped open a cold beer and took a slow sip while Eight, clearly a few drinks in, poured his heart out over some girl.

“You know, Rael... I love her. How the hell do I stop wanting her?” Eight slurred, his voice rough but sincere, eyes glassy from the booze and the pain.

Rael just smirked, shaking his head like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Bro, you deserve that. You’re a damn playboy,” he said with a laugh that lacked sympathy.

The guys chuckled, our usual banter bouncing around as the night wore on—just a bunch of bachelors letting loose, drowning their troubles in drinks and laughter.

“Tsk! Tsk! That’s exactly why I don’t do this whole ‘in love’ thing. It’s a f*****g disaster,” Lowen chimed in, flashing his signature sly grin. Another playboy in the mix.

If Eight was smooth at chasing, Lowen was the king of dodging commitment. He didn’t believe in love—at least not the kind that tied you down.

Then Adam, sitting beside him, just laughed at the drama unfolding. He wasn’t much for words—mostly poker face or quiet chuckles—but somehow his laughter always said enough.

We’d been friends since the business days, and nights like this reminded me why we clicked. Sometimes, men just need a good boys’ talk—a place to vent and be real.

“But still, I love her,” Eight muttered again, throwing in a dramatic pose like he was auditioning for a telenovela.

Rael rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly cringing. “Cut it out, gago! We’re not here for your soap opera.”

“I hate you guys! Just wait—if you ever feel like this, you’ll be singing the same tune,” Eight shot back, taking another long sip.

We all fired back in unison, “No way!”

“We don’t want to suffer like you,” Rael added, still laughing as he shook his head.

“He’s crazy,” Adam finally chimed in—surprising everyone. It was rare for him to speak, let alone disagree.

Lowen scoffed, swirling the drink in his glass. “You’re weak, Eight. That’s what love does—it turns lions into clowns.”

Eight groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all heartless.”

“Damn right,” Rael said, raising his beer. “To being heartless and happy.”

We all clinked bottles. Just another night with the boys—loud, wild, and free from feelings.

“Let’s change the topic,” Rael suddenly cut in, flashing a smug grin. “Damian, I heard your woman said yes to you?”

That caught me off guard. Hell no—I didn’t want to talk about it, especially not here. I clenched my jaw and shot a glare at the most likely suspect.

“You damn Lowen... you told them?” I hissed.

Lowen raised both hands in mock surrender, flashing a peace sign. “Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Adam is the real marites here,” he added, pointing across the table. “He gave me something I needed, so I spilled a little. Fair trade.”

Adam shrugged, completely unbothered. “You two talk too loud. Not my fault I picked up the details.”

Rael leaned forward, grinning. “So it’s true? Damian’s finally off the market?”

“Shut up,” I muttered, sipping my drink, trying to stay cool while the boys erupted into cheers and teasing.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Rael pressed.

I sighed. No point dodging now. “Next month. My dad’s flying back from Australia for it.”

“What’s her name again? Ella?” Adam asked, squinting slightly.

“It’s Estella,” I corrected him without missing a beat.

“She’s a Colley tenant, right? Her own unit,” Lowen jumped in, smirking. “But Damian here paid for the space and made the rent dirt cheap. Lover-boy move, if you ask me.”

“You’re the real lover boy now, Damian,” he added, raising his glass.

I just shook my head, fighting the smirk creeping onto my face. No use denying it—the roast was on.

“So… you love her?” Adam asked, tone light but eyes sharp.

I took a long sip of my beer, feeling their eyes all on me.

“Boys,” I finally said, setting the bottle down with a thud. “I don’t love her. I just need a woman to marry me—for clout. And she knows that.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t believe you,” Rael said, narrowing his eyes like he could see right through me. “You don’t even like gold diggers. But you’re out here dropping serious cash for Estella?”

“Because Estella,” I said firmly, “is not like that.”

The room went quiet.

Even Lowen just raised a brow but didn’t speak. That tone—it wasn’t up for debate.

I glanced at each of them, then leaned back on the couch. “She’s different. That’s all.”

Eight leaned in again with a grin. “Give it a few months, Damian. You’ll be singing the same song I am.”

I snorted. “No way. That drama’s all yours.”

The guys erupted in laughter again, the tension breaking. Just like that, the mood shifted—back to beer, banter, and boys being boys.