Riiight. Wow, I really did forget how to have fun.
My friend picks up the saltshaker, licks his hand, and pours some onto the spot, telling me to do the same. I follow his instructions, taking the shot like I did when I was nineteen years old.
Sucking on the lime, I shake my head. “Yeah, it still tastes like ass.”
“The song is coming to an end. Pick another one,” he tells me.
Heading to pick another song, I choose one that reminds me of our two and a half short college years. “Don’t” by Ed Sheeran plays, and I find Jamal spinning while drinking beer.
He’s going to throw up if he keeps doing that. Smiling, I take a step in his direction before a tall woman with black hair stops me.
“Hey, handsome. I was wondering if you and your friend want to join us for a game?” She points to the girl behind her, who looks to be about the same age as her friend. Both look to be around my age, and they’re cute, although their smiles are a little creepy, but Jamal’s taken, and I’m just not fucking interested.
Emma and I may not be exclusive—at least, I don’t think we are—but until we have that conversation, I’m not touching another woman, and I don’t feel like doing so anyway.
I decide to be honest and straightforward. “You and your friend are very pretty, but my friend is taken, and I’m not interested. Thank you for asking, though.”
Giving her a polite smile, I try to sidestep her before she blocks me.
Fucking hell.
“Your friend’s girl doesn’t need to know, and come on…” She picks at the collar of my sweater. “You have to be interested in at least one of us.”
The sound of someone by the jukebox comes from behind me, and I mentally curse the woman for making me miss the song I chose for Jamal and me to dance to.
Letting out a deep breath to keep my composure, I repeat myself. “We’re good, thanks.”
She tries to intercept again, but this time, my patience is running thin as the alcohol reaches my head. I lift the woman by the waist, which makes her squeal, and I put her down in the spot where I was a second ago.
“Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” by ABBA plays as soon as I set her down and meet a pair of baby blue, narrowed eyes surrounded by golden hair.
I’m frozen to the spot as Emma gives the woman a dismissive look and raises an eyebrow at me before heading to the dining room while the song we danced to the night we met plays overhead.
The woman attempts to speak to me again, but I ignore her and follow Emma. After a couple of steps, I stop when I see hersitting down with an older woman and a man across from her in the dining room. She flashes them a wide smile, and although I can only see the back of their heads, the woman’s blonde hair matches Emma’s perfectly, making it clear that they’re either her parents or other family members. I keep my head peeked around the corner, trying to catch her attention.
Her song choice ends, and another I haven’t heard in years plays. “Meet Me in the Bathroom” by The Strokes.
Jamal most definitely didn’t put this song on, he’s into mainstream pop. As the thought crosses my mind, Emma finally looks up from her menu, then at her dinner companions, and back to me. She mouths,After we finish.
She’s damn lucky I can read her lips and understand her message right away. After they finish eating, I should meet her in the bathroom, which just happens to be in the back room by the pool tables.
Smart girl.It isn’t something I would’ve thought of, and I forgot that queuing songs was possible with the jukebox.
Giving her the smirk I know drives her crazy, I mouth,Okay, and wink, but not before seeing her cheeks heat.
It’s been thirty minutes of drinking beers with Jamal and playing darts. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep him distracted, but the alcohol and songs I’m choosing seem to be doing the trick.
“Hey, I just hit the wall!” Jamal yells over the music. Looking up, I see a dart sitting next to the board rather than on it.
“All right, that’s enough beer.” I take the bottle out of his hand and move the tray of empty shots far, far away. He doesn’t have the tolerance he used to.
“Party pooper,” he spits in my face.
Jeez, he’s a lightweight, and that’s coming from someone who hasn’t done shots in years. I may be a bit tipsy, but the third shot and second beer must’ve done some serious damage if his eyes are any indication.
Thank fuck I skipped those extra drinks.
Jamal leans on my shoulder and puts all his weight on me, almost making me trip.
