Stepping awkwardly to the side while another bachelor comes to the stage, my date shoves his hands in his pockets. I tighten my grip on the strap of my purse. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now.
I’m not even sure what to say.
I clear my throat. “So…”
“So…” he says, voice equally pinched. “You’re Tina.”
“That’s right. And you’re…”
“Josh.”
“Josh,” I repeat with a nod. “I went to school with someone named Josh.”
I wince inwardly. Of course, I went to school with someone named Josh. Every person in the continental U.S. probably went to school with at least one Josh at some point in their life.
“Nice.” He shifts from one foot to the other and scratches his nose. “I can’t remember if I went to school with any Tinas. I must have.”
Oh. My. God. This is even more painful than having a tooth pulled.
Someone walks by balancing a tray of shots.
“Should we grab a drink?” he asks.
Dear God yes. “Sounds like a good idea.”
Motioning with his arm, Josh leads me toward one of the bars set up in the back of the room. His palm lightly presses the small of my back, and my stomach does a backflip.
Taking a deep breath to calm my heightened senses, I feign a deep interest in the drink menu.
“There’s a good selection,” Josh says, looking over my shoulder, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck.
“Hmm,” I agree, even though I have no idea whether or not that’s right.
“What can I get for the two of you?” the bartender asks.
I know what I’d really like. Another shot of tequila. Make it a double.
I also know how that would probably look to this man who is being forced to spend time with me.
When neither of us jumps to speak, the bartender rolls his eyes. “You clearly need some social lubrication.” He reaches toward the well. “Pick your poison.”
“Tequila,” I blurt out.
“Make that two,” Josh says.
Without prompting, the bartender pours us each a double and motions for us to drink. We share another painful look, and Josh raises his glass to mine.
“To making new friends?”
I clink my glass with his. “To hoping these shots do their job.”
He chuckles. “Cheers to that.”
We throw back our shots, both of us gasping for breath after. Our gazes meet again, and this time we burst into laughter.
“How long till those kick in?” he asks, wiping a tear.
I pause to take another gulp of air. “I give it ten minutes.”
