She beamed back at me. “Challenge accepted.”
“Okay, challenge failed,”Ollie groaned as she slid into the bar’s booth, rubbing her ankle. “How was everyone at that club the biggest douche on the planet?”
As the bartender dropped our drinks on the table, I grabbed mine, needing something cool after battling the masses earlier. When Ollie dragged me out to the club earlier, she failed to mention it was the grand opening. Everyone in Erie City under the age of twenty-five had gathered inside its doors, making it almost impossible to find the bar, much less order a drink. After over an hour of trying to flag down a server, we called it quits, heading toward our favorite dive bar.
From the outside, the Rusty Anchor looked like you’d get tetanus from sitting on a barstool. However, that was intentional, keeping away any wandering tourists or the college crowd. But once you walked inside, the place was comfortable and clean, with a vintage vibe that always made me smile. A large mural of a pinup girl filled the wall behind the tables, black iron lights casting the space in a golden glow. Aged wood covered the bottom half of the walls while a dark green patterned wallpaper stretched up to the tin ceiling.
“And the worst part?” Ollie said as she tipped back her drink. “The bouncer called mema’am. Do I look like a ma’am? Have I crossed an imaginary line into adulthood and didn’t realize it?”
“Ollie, you own a condo and have a burgeoning business,” I answered. “Why didn’tyou think you were an adult?”
“Okay, when you put it in those terms, sure, I’m an adult. But I’m not responsible enough to call myself one. If an emergency happens, there’s no way I should be the one in charge. Way too much responsibility for me to handle.”
I chuckled as I grabbed my drink. “Coming from the woman who handles crises daily. Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re an adult. And if you think you’re old, imagine how I feel.” I winced as the vodka hit the back of my tongue. “Next time, we skip that scene and head straight over here.”
“I’m not arguing with you about that.” Ollie sighed as she relaxed into the booth. As I took another sip of my drink, she leaned forward. “Have you thought anymore about your list?”
I choked on my drink, pulling over a napkin to wipe the traces from my lips. “What list?”
Her eyes narrowed back at me. “Your spice list. C’mon, Bri. Now that I know what books you read, we can add so many more options.”
“They’re romance!” I protested.
She held up her hands. “There’s no judgment here. In fact, I need you to give me some recs. Real life has been letting me down, and I could use some fictional action to keep my mind busy—the filthier, the better.”
“Oh.” My anger deflated at her words, too used to getting comments about my reading choices. As I weighed her words, Ollie dug through her purse, pulling out a pen with atriumphant smile. She grabbed one of the paper placemats and flipped it over, writing in bold letters across the topBrianna’s Ho Phase.
I reached out and snatched it away from her. “Okay, you cannot phrase it like that.”
“Why?” Ollie said, taking it back out of my hands. “Everyone has one, and no offense, Bri, but you desperately need a ho phase. Teach yourself what you want when you’re ready to settle down again.”
“Can’t we call it something likeBri’s Summer of Love?”
“That sounds more like you’re going on a cruise for divorced parents.” As I continued to stare her down, she relented. “Fine, but I want my formal protest noted.”
“Noted.”
Ollie nodded then started numbering the side of the paper. When she reached ten, I took the pen away. “I only have eight weeks left of the summer, Ol. I’d like to walk when I have to set up for school.”
“Walking is overrated,” Ollie mused as she took back her pen. “Now—what is the first thing on your fantasy list?”
I paused, scrunching my face in thought. Was this a normal thing people did? Just list their sexual fantasies out loud for their friends to hear? I wasn’t opposed to telling Ollie what I wanted, but after years of my mother making sex sound like the ultimate shame, I struggled to find the words.
Ollie frowned and reached out to take my hand. “If this is too much, we can skip it. It’s up to you, Bri.”
“I want to do it.” Lifting my empty glass in my hand, I called over our server. “Two shots of tequila, please, extra limes.”
“Two for me, too,” Ollie beamed up at her.
Once the drinks came, I downed both, needingmore liquid courage in my veins. After I sucked down the limes, still feeling the wince of the tequila as it settled in my stomach, I looked over at the list. “Does it make me pathetic if I say I don’t know where to start?”
“Nope.” Ollie smiled at me, and my stomach somersaulted. “That’s what you have best friends for.”
TWELVE
I needed a drink. Scratch that—after tonight, I needed fifteen drinks. Mari was lucky I loved her, because after the stunt she pulled, all future family dinners were in jeopardy.
I should’ve known something was up when my sister called before I left the house, asking me to wear one of my nicer outfits, and then again after I pulled into the driveway and saw an unfamiliar car parked in my usual spot. After years of Mari’s meddling, you'd think I’d recognize the signs of a set-up. But no, not me. I walked in blind, and now, I was eyeing the exit like a dying man.
