I needed someone else—someone to shove the guy away and cocoon me in strong, tanned arms.
Shit.
My thought process struggled to catch up to a decision I’d already made as I slipped my phone out of my pocket and fired off a series of messages. No-name winked and turned to Rose, who had flagged down the bartender. She passed over a bottle of water that I gratefully chugged, then arched an eyebrow and used one finger to push a shot of something dark green toward me that smelled like tart apples and spice.
Good job, Rose. Ten points to Slytherin.
We clinked the glasses together, the liquid spilling over my fingers before we downed the shots. I didn’t cringe but hummed as the flavors danced in my mouth. It tasted like Christmas in a glass—all shimmery, spicy, and something earthy while layered with apples. This bartender deserved a raise—or a twenty. Probably a twenty, since I didn’t know who the owner was, and I doubted they wanted to hear from a semi-drunk patron about the drink-making skills of an employee on a busy Friday night.
I tugged the bill out of my purse and slapped it on the bar before squeezing in between Marietta and Rose. I side-eyed the too-white-teeth guy and was baffled that I let him touch me at all because he was currently checking out his reflection in a spoon. Seriously? Who had a spoon at a bar? Did this guy order a drink complicated enough that it required a spoon? Or did he not have the common sense to open his phone’s front-facing camera like a normal person?
“Hello?” Rose said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Gym teacher at your job? Handsome guy? About your age? Dimples for days?”
I focused on her electric blue fingernails, wondering how my life ended up as an aerial shot of a coastal town destroyed by a hurricane—nothing left standing. Just support beams and planks of wood floating over the vast, unforgiving ocean. I couldn’t spend time worrying about collateral damage. Therewas only one point.Rebuilding.The what-ifs and could-have-beens were utterly useless when push came to shove.
“Nooo,” I said, leaning my elbows on the table and putting my head in my hands. “I don’t want the gym guy or your brother. I don’t want the random guy squeezing kiwis at the grocery store or the creepy dude at the end of the bar getting a hard-on at his own reflection.”
“We got you, babe,” Angelina said, rubbing my arms before finishing her water. “Just tell us what you need.”
“Ugh. I don’t know what I need.”
It was the truth. I didn’t know what I needed. I wasn’t keen to rely on some computer to tell me who I should date, and I had no desire to pick up random guys at bars. In the same breath, I knew it was stupid to hope my weekly trip to Dunkin’ Donuts would result in long-term affection and, eventually, love. As I glanced at the spoon dude at the end of the bar, I still didn’t know what would happen tomorrow—but I knew what I needed tonight.
I needed Miller.
Chapter 5
Emma:The guys here are stupid. Dance with me!
Me:Umm?
Emma:Come on. You’re not just a pretty face.
Emma:I know you know more than one word. Let’s dance!
Emma:*GIF of Leonardo DiCaprio Breakdancing*
Me:Are you drunk?
Emma:Well. I’m not sober, and all the guys here are lame.
Me:Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re at that strip club off 526 because you promised you wouldn’t bring up *that* movie night again.
Emma:OMG! I’d almost forgotten about your bitching dance moves!
Emma:I’m going to need a refresher. Just to see if your skills have improved.
Me:Not likely, babe. Where are you?
Emma:At the bar with the girls and the idiot guys, of course.
Me:I need more than that, Emma.
Me:Are you downtown?
Emma:Gotta go, tequila calls. Come on. Don’t be a spoilsport.
Emma:*GIF of cacti doing tequila shots*
