"She's very insistent about getting us drunk don't you think." I say to Lily, who's already being tugged along in Emily's wake as we're being redirected towards the bar.
"Hell yeah I am," Emily tosses over her shoulder.
The bar stretches along the far wall, a gleaming expanse of polished wood and glowing red and green lights alternating from beneath. Three bartenders move with practiced efficiency, mixing, shaking, and pouring. One catches sight of us approaching and gives a quick, appreciative once-over.
"Ladies," he greets as we squeeze into a newly vacated spot. His smile is white against his dark beard. "What can I get you?"
"Three tequila shots please." Emily says decisively. "Dressed."
"Yeah, make it top shelf," I add. "My sister's paying."
The bartender, Marco according to his name tag laughs, a rich sound that somehow cuts through the music. "Coming right up." He reaches for a bottle from the top shelf. "Special occasion?"
"Just celebrating life," Lily answers, her accent making the bartender's eyebrows raise with interest.
"And freedom," I add, surprising myself with the declaration.
"And the fact that my sister is wearing something besides leggings for once," Emily chimes in, giving me a playful nudge.
Marco lines up three dressed shot glasses in front of us. "Well, whatever we're celebrating, it looks good on all of you." He pours with a flourish.
"Are you always this charming, or are we just lucky?" Emily asks, leaning slightly onto the bar.
"I'm afraid it's terminal," Marco sighs dramatically. "Doctor says I've got chronic charm syndrome. No known cure."
We laugh, and I catch Lily's eye, sharing a smile at Emily's immediate flirtation mode. This is what we needed—lighthearted banter, no expectations, just the simple pleasure of being young, dressed up, and appreciated.
"That'll be thirty-six dollars," Marco says, and Emily pulls out her card without hesitation.
As she's paying, I sense a shift in the energy beside me. Two guys have moved up to the bar, filling the space to our right. I catch a glimpse in my peripheral vision. One tall and broad-shouldered, the other slightly shorter but with a friendly face. Both are well-dressed in an effortless way.
"We'll have what they're having," I hear the taller one say to Marco, gesturing toward us.
Marco slides our shots forward. Emily hands me and Lily each a glass, raising hers in a toast.
"To the nights we might not remember with people we'll never forget," she declares.
"That sounds ominous," I laugh, but clink my glass against hers and Lily's anyway.
We lick the salt from the rims of the glass, throw back the shots in synchronicity, and bite into the lime wedges.
"Smooth," Lily says appreciatively, her eyes watering slightly.
"Another?" asks a deep voice to my right.
I turn to find myself looking up into the most absurdly blue eyes I've ever seen. They belong to the taller of the two guys who had moved up beside us, and they're currently fixed on me with an intensity that’s making my skin tingle. Or maybe that's just the tequila.
"That depends," I answer, finding my voice. "Are you offering to buy, or just making conversation?"
His mouth quirks up at one corner, a dimple appearing. "Definitely offering."
The man is unfairly attractive—rich chocolate brown hair just messy enough to look like it hasn’t been styled, broad shoulders filling out a dark button-down rolled to the elbows, and a jawline that could cut glass. He radiates the kind of confidence that should be annoying but somehow isn't.
"What do you think, girls?" I call over my shoulder to Emily and Lily. "Another round?"
"Never say no to free alcohol," Emily says, her eyes darting between me and the handsome stranger with poorly concealed delight.
"When in Rome," Lily agrees with a smile.
