“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her tone is painfully sweet, and I scrunch my nose at her accuracy. I dislike most people, but not Kara. Securing a roommate online was a risk, and while my only intention was to find someone to split rent with, I can’t help but feel like I won the lottery when I found the vivacious redhead and her collection of lizard paraphernalia. She’s my favorite brand of quirky, and I admire her willingness to follow her muse wherever it leads; which, in the six years I’ve known her, is just about everywhere.Right now, it’s taking her along the scenic route of launching her own line of handcrafted ceramic goods.
“No, I don’t. But you’re on thin ice.”
She winks and takes a sip of her cocktail.
Our drinks don’t last much longer and soon Kara and I are closing our tabs and stepping out into the brisk night air. Spring is a volatile season in Portland and tonight it’s serving a chilly bite under a cloud-spackled sky. It’s not everyone’s favorite, but I’ve always loved the tricky threat of rain here. It’s like mother nature is fucking with everyone, never letting anyone know what her next move is going to be.
Arms linked and shivering together, Kara and I wait for the crosswalk light to change. A riotous wave of laughter rises up behind us and I glance towards its source: half a dozen drunk men standing just inside the bar’s patio gate. A few of them are holding fat cigars, the cloud of tobacco reminding me of beanie baby. With a grimace, I scan their faces. My lackluster hook-up isn’t among them but I am disgruntled by the sight of the Greek-god-turned-mortal-asshole from the bathroom hallway. His casual stance and easy smile send a shiver of annoyance down my spine and into my toes. Fuck that guy. And fuck his judgement.
I tighten my grip on Kara’s arm, turning back to focus with everything I have on the solid red hand illuminated across the street.
“What?” Kara asks, craning her neck to see what shifted me back into grumpville.
“That’s the guy from the hallway.”
“Which one? The hot one who looks like someone pissed in his beer?”
“Don’tlook,” I hiss, yanking her around. “But, yes.”
“Oh, Lottie he isfoine.”
My stomach flips, remembering his corded forearms and the way his steely gaze traced my flushed and flustered, post hook-up form. She’s not wrong, and I hate it.
“Yeah,too bad he’s a dick.”
“Is he a dick, or was he giving you a hard time for slutting it up in a bar bathroom? To be fair, I do that too.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“I’m on the side of whatever gets you more face to face—or other things—with that hottie. Seriously, is he real? Did he smell good? His jawline tells me he would smell good. Fuck, it’s been too long since I’ve been laid.”
Kara’s babbling turns to a whine, and all of it is too loud for my comfort. We’re still close enough that if they wanted to, any of the men could hear her.
“Thin ice, sister. You’re drunk and it’s time to go home.”
The longer we stand here waiting for the light to change, the more I feel eyes watching us. Kara’s louder than life chatter isn’t helping, and all of it is making me nauseous. Though that could also be credited to the four, too-sweet margaritas I downed.
“What is wrong with this damn light?”
“Hey!” Kara calls, slipping from my grasp and stumbling towards the group on the patio.
“Hey, yourself,” one of the cigar-toting men calls back.
Though I consider leaving my friend to yell at strangers on her own, I groan and follow her—hoping to get her back on track towards home before she says or does something we’ll both regret.
“You,” she says, pointing to the hottie.
His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at me and then back at my inebriated roommate.
“Yes?”
“Why were you a dick to my friend?”
Actively ignoring the way his gaze bounces between us, I reach for Kara’s arm. “It doesn’t matter. Let’sgo.”
