“No, Red. I don’t.” I’d love to say yes—I’d love the thrill of watching Derek get a tiny piece of what he deserves—but it’s not worth whatever will happen after the initial hit.
“Want to get even? Make him jealous? We can make out right next to them.”
“Honestly,fuck off.I’m just trying to listen to music and drink in peace, okay? Why don’t you go ask a girl to dance or get in a fistfight or do literally anything other than bug me.”
“Well, I don’t dance. The sole person I’m thinking about fighting is your ex, which you already shot down. And I was sitting here first.”
Plopping my elbow onto the table, I sink my head into my hand to block him from view—effectively blocking Derek as well. Two annoying birds, one stone. A moment later, the table shifts as Red finally takes the hint and leaves.
Not nearly enough time has passed when his presence returns. At least this time, he comes bearing gifts, sliding a shot of tequila and another beer over to me. And I’m not one to turn down free drinks, even if I’m impartial to the guy buying them for me.
Hoisting up his own shot glass with a wink, he says, “Cheers to you not dating that fuckin’ nerd anymore.”
Jesus Christ. But also… hear, hear!
I throw back the shot, chasing it with multiple chugs of beer. Painfully aware of Red’s stare, which is burning my insides with more sting than the tequila. He sets his empty bottle on the table and lazily spins it with a wrist flick. Over and over and over.
Thud, clink, rattle, rattle, thud, clink, rattle.
Until the sound of glass on the rough wood surface may as well be an accompaniment for the band, which I’m watching with intent. Desperateto look anywhere other than at the cowboy sitting across from me or at the ex-boyfriend somewhere in the crowd. Hoping if I pretend hard enough to like the shitty cover music, I can get lost in the atmosphere and potentially salvage the night.
“Hey, Cass.” Red’s grating voice pierces the air just when I’ve nearly forgotten about him sitting across from me.
I roll my neck with an irritated exhale. “What now, Red?”
“Look at that. Looks like I landed on you in Spin The Bottle. Better kiss me and make your ex jealous—he keeps looking over here.”
“You’re an idiot,” I say with a scoff.
“Not a fan?Oh, right. From what I remember, Seven Minutes In Heaven is more your game, isn’t it?”
This goddamn town. Suggest a group of us play itone fucking timeat a birthday party in the eighth grade, and it’s still brought up nearly two decades later.
“Are you thirteen?” I consider ditching the overpriced beer and heading home to throw my pajamas back on. This entire night is a waste of time. I hate knowing I put effort into looking pretty so I could sit at a picnic table with Chase “Red” Thompson—a boy I’ve disliked since middle school. Stuck watching my ex-boyfriend make out with the beautiful, raven-haired woman he was sleeping with for at least half of our year-long relationship.
“Is that what you’re into? Because that’s fucked up, Cass.” He snorts a laugh, straightening his hat. “Might need to report you.”
“I meant because those are both children’s games, you idiot.” I gulp my beer. And gulp. And gulp.
“I’m just sayin’, everybody but us seems to be making out. And itwouldpiss him off. But if a simple kiss is too childish for you, there are lots of adult things we could do.” He raises a daring eyebrow.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Leaning over the table, I smack the cowboy hat from his head. He lets out a hearty chuckle, bending to swipe it from the ground and shaking out his thick hair. The commotion’senough to break apart Shelby and Denny who, until this point, may as well have had their lips superglued together.
“Hey, Shelb. I’m gonna walk home,” I say now that I finally have a sliver of her attention. Swinging a leg over the bench and standing up, the alcohol washes through my bloodstream. The world’s a little hazy, lights around the stage are blown out rather than crisp, and my legs feel like they’re enveloped in thick mud. Chugging back my beer in an effort to leave faster might not have been my best move.
“No, don’t!” She protests, pushing away from Denny to catch my elbow. “You’re supposed to be finding a guy to help you get over Derek tonight.”
“And I told you there are zero prospects here.”
Shelby looks from me to Red, then meets my eyes with a shrug. “I mean… notzeroprospects.”
“Fuck all of this.Definitely, fuck that.I’m going home. Night, guys.”
“Night, Cass. Love you,” Denny calls after me.
Shelby’s playful squeal rings out as he presumably grabs her, pulling her back in for another consuming kiss.
I stagger through the crowd of drunk people, aiming to keep myself on two feet while I come to grips with exactly how intoxicated I am. That’s the problem with throwing them back while you’re comfortably seated. As soon as you stand, the Earth tilts on its axis, and you find yourself struggling to remain upright.
