I feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. This has to be him.
Well, well, if it isn’t Scowl himself.
It’s going okay so far. Looking forward to those dueling pianos you mentioned.
Just okay? Sounds a little disappointing.
He’s not wrong.
It was. But now that you’re texting me…
There’s a pause, and then he replies,
Are you going to finish that sentence? I’m intrigued.
Laughing out loud, I type,
I’d say happy hour is getting a lot happier now that you’re texting me. Brooke’s having fun, but this isn’t quite my kind of crowd.
Oh no? I assumed you’d be swarmed by male attention by now.
I smile.
I’m much too intimidating for most men.
My cheeks flush. I’m acting way more sassy than my normal self. Brooke would be proud.
Any man who can’t handle your confidence isn’t worthy of you.
A wave of pleasure rolls over me at the compliment.
You’re making me blush.
I reply, and it’s 100% the truth.
So what is your kind of crowd if it’s not the clientele at Hurricane Sammy’s?
Biting my lip, I debate whether to keep up the banter or give him a real answer.
Not the crowd type in general. I’ll take a quiet night out with a few friends at a whiskey bar any day of the week.
I see ellipses pop up and then disappear, and then finally he texts back,
What kind of whiskey?
Is this a test? I’m no expert on whiskey if he wants to get into the nitty-gritty, but I do know what I like.
Connemara. But I’m still a newbie tbh.
I’m guessing since you chose a peated whiskey, you’re into the earthy smokiness.
Nailed it.
Connemara’s a decent mid-shelf, but there’s a whole world of better whiskeys out there. Just saying.
With a grin, I type back,
I’d be interested in hearing your recommendations sometime.
