A chuckle bubbles from my lips, and I shake my head. “Okay, smarty-pants. Come on, we’re getting a drink.”
The bar’s in the corporate district in the city, not far from a local community college. Students and nine-to-fivers alike come here to decompress after a long day. It’s usually packed, but for once, there’sbarely anyone here—probably on account of it being the holiday season and people being home with their families.
The bouncer recognizes me from my high school days, and waves both me and Ember in without asking to see our IDs. I slip him a hundred, clap his shoulder, and lead Ember inside.
The atmosphere is dim and cozy—Christmas lights hang from brick walls, and fairy lights decorate the old fixtures on the ceiling. There’s a banner behind the wooden bar readingHappy Holidays!The bar itself is moderately-sized, and it has a bunch of high tables lining the floor, as well as some low tables with armchairs in the back. I lead Ember there, wanting her to be comfortable.
And wanting it to be dark enough so that if the unthinkable happens and I get a hard-on, she doesn’t notice.Fuck, please let me not embarrass myself tonight…
“You look stronger,” Ember says when we sit, eyeing my biceps.
“I hit the gym when I want to blow off steam. You already know this.” What she doesn’t know is that I also fuckhardand occasionally freaky when I want to blow off steam.
“Yeah, uh…” she’s still staring at my biceps. I may or may not subtly flex them. “It’s, um, working.”
Thankfuck, a waitress appears right then. She’s an older woman in her fifties who looks none-too-happy to be working tonight.
“What can I getcha?” she grumbles, not even attempting a smile.
Ember’s brows furrow, and she glances at the two menus laid on the table.
I catch her gaze. “Trust me?”
She nods.
“Whiskey neat for me, and a strawberry daiquiri for my friend,” I say. The wordfriendtastes wrong, but I ignore that.
I ignore everything that might point to an attraction between me and Ember. Shit, maybe taking her to a bar and drinking with her isn’t the best call. I’d never let her get drunk—I’m not a total idiot—but alcohol has been known to loosen inhibitions.
“I’ve never had that. What is it?” she asks once the waitress leaves.
“It’s kinda like a strawberry smoothy, except with rum and lime and other good stuff. You’ll like it.” She’s always had a sweet tooth.
“Oh.” She brightens. “That sounds good.”
“It is.”
“Right.” She traps her lower lip between my teeth, and I pointedly avert my gaze before sordid fantasies can take over my brain.
“Is there… any reason in particular you brought me here?” she asks after a few beats.
Well, Ember, I brought you here because, in trying to stop thinking about you sexually, I decided the best course of action was to isolate us and throw some alcohol into the mix.
“I thought you’d like a strawberry daiquiri,” I say solemnly.
She smiles. “I guess we’ll find out if you’re right soon enough.” She bites her thumb nail, then quickly corrects the gesture, lowering her hands and folding them in her lap.
I search her expression. “You’re nervous.”
She shrugs. “I just sent out college applications. It’s been a crazy week.”
I don’t think that’s the only thing she’s nervous about, but I don’t push. “How’s your dad?”
Her brows draw together, and I immediately feel like an asshole. I shouldn’t ask—I already know.
I can count the number of times I’ve seen her dad sober on one hand. He’s largely a functional drunk, and thankfully, he never drinks on the job. But when the sun goes down and work’s over, he picks upthe bottle—and then he hits the tables. Ember confided in me over Thanksgiving that she’s afraid he might start messing with her college fund, which is why she’s applying for every scholarship imaginable.
“He means well,” she says softly. “He just… can’t help himself. He’s not mean or abusive. He’s never hurt me. I think the life he’s lived has just broken him. He never recovered from my mom leaving.”
