“Just a beer,” I reply, certain they don’t have any of the ingredients for the drinks I’d normally have in the city.
“Two beers and two shots of tequila,” she orders.
“Tequila?” I ask, bumping my shoulder into hers. “You remember our last tequila night?”
She laughs and nods. “Well, you know what they say . . .”
“What?” I ask, suddenly confused.
“The song. ‘Tequila makes her clothes fall off,’” she quotes.
I giggle. “Really? That’s a song?”
She nods. “Yes! Where have you been, under a rock?”
I laugh so hard I snort. “No! I’ve been in the city, where country music makes our ears bleed.” I’ve never been a fan of country music, despite the way I was brought up. Most people in this town have country music and beer running through their veins. That was one thing Wyatt and I always agreed on: rock music, the harder the better. I have to admit, I was completely jealous when I saw he was a roadie for The Screaming Elephants. They’re not a big group yet—not mainstream—but they’ve been on the indie scene for years.
Our drinks are handed over and we pick up our shots. “To years of friendship,” she says, clanking her glass on mine.
We both toss the shots back, chasing them with our beer. She lets out a squeal like she’s a drunk girl on spring break. I glance at her as heat floods my cheeks.
“What? Someone needs to liven this place up,” she laughs out.
The bartender comes over and points at her. “You cause another riot in here and I’ll kick your ass myself.”
Julie shows her the palms of her bands and sits on the barstool.
“What? How did you start a riot?”
“It was years ago. And I mean, riot?” She frowns. “Look at this place. How big a riot could it have been?”
She’s got a point there. “Either way, what did you do?”
She tips back her beer and takes a long sip. “Back when Mark and I were together, before we had little Jimmy, we came in here one Saturday night. I was still waiting tables and he was between jobs, so we were both stressed out and looking to blow off some steam. We got hammered and started acting crazy. You know how we were. One of us drunk by ourselves wasn’t bad, but the two of us drunk together was the equivalent of fire and gasoline. Anyway, we were out on the dance floor, and I thought it’d be a good idea to dance on top of a table. So I climbed up on that corner table in my six-inch heels and miniskirt. Mark was totally into it; he was never the jealous type. In fact, he liked watching men hit on me all night. It really got him going, knowing he was going to be the one to take me home.”
“All right, maybe I don’t need to know this story,” I joke.
She playfully smacks me. “No, nothing like that. Anyway, I was up there dancing, having the time of my life. When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t just Mark in front of me. It was the whole bar! Men, women, it didn’t matter. They were all drunk and enjoying the energy of the bar. Then some drunk guy reached out and grabbed my ankle. I was drunk, in heels, and on a wobbly table, so I fell. Mark was pissed, and not just because the man touched me, but because I could’ve been hurt. So they got into a fight. Then it was like the whole bar turned on itself. Everyone was fighting. People were throwing pool balls, breaking cue sticks over each other’s backs, throwing barstools, and pushing tables. It was a bad night.”
Her eyes are as big as silver dollars, but her smirk is still there, shining on like always. “Anyway, them’s in my wild days. I don’t act like that anymore. I’m a perfect little lady now,” she drawls out in her fake Southern accent.
I laugh until tears form in my eyes. “You? A lady?” I snort when I start laughing too hard.
“Hey!” she acts offended. “I am a lady, dammit. A lady who needs another shot!” she yells to the bartender.
The bartender walks over and begins to fill our glasses again. “Seriously, I will kick your ass. Just keep that in mind.”
Julie smiles sweetly but picks up her shot and throws it back.
An hour passes, and before I know it, I’m perfectly buzzed. Not too drunk, but also drunk enough to find everything funny. Julie and I talk like no time has passed at all. She’s still my opposite in every way. She’s wild and crazy, even when she isn’t drunk, but it makes for some good stories. I finish off what must be my fourth beer when I feel a change in the atmosphere. It’s like the air suddenly grows thick, like it’s charged with electricity. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, goosebumps prickling my skin. My lungs feel like they’re having to work harder to take in oxygen, and my heart is in a sudden race. I look up at Julie and concern etches her face.
“What?” she asks.
“I . . . I don’t know,” I mumble, beginning to look around the bar. “Something’s different.” Nothing seems to have changed. There are still two men playing pool, the same group hangs around the dartboard, and the same random men sit around the bar. I spin my chair to the right and my eyes land on him. Wyatt. He’s just walked in the door and is making his way to the bar. He hasn’t noticed me yet, or maybe he has and he’s acting like he hasn’t.
I spin my back to him, looking at Julie with wide, fearful eyes. “What do I do?” I whisper, even though there’s no chance of him hearing me over the loud country music.
She smiles wide. “It is fate.” She latches onto my arm to drive her point home.
I roll my eyes, sick of her fate talk already. “I’m being serious, Jules.”
“Go talk to him,” she urges.
“What? No way!”
“Why not?”
I shake my head, suddenly scared to move—fearing I’ll draw attention to myself. “Order us more drinks,” I tell her. “I’m going to need to be drunk for this.”
It’s a small town and an even smaller bar. It’s only a matter of time before he notices me. Even getting up and leaving would draw attention to myself. Julie orders us two more beers and two shots.
“Make it four. Four shots,” I tell her.
Her eyes double in size as she laughs, but she does as I ask.
When our drinks arrive, I pick up a shot and toss it back. I pick up the second and do the same, chasing it with ice-cold beer. I know it hasn’t had time to kick in yet, but I already feel a little stronger, less afraid. I finally decide to let it go. If he comes over, he comes over. If he doesn’t, then that’s fine. I’m not going to let worry ruin my good time.
Julie and I start talking again like nothing has changed. For a moment, I even forget he’s sitting there. I’ve chanced a glimpse at him a time or two, but he seems content talking to the man at his side. He hasn’t even looked my way.
I excuse myself to go to the restroom, and when I spin my barstool around and stand up, I bump into something hard. Wyatt’s chest.
5
Wyatt
I spot her the moment I walk into the bar, but I see the panicked look she gives Julie, so I decide to wait. I order a glass of whiskey and she orders enough to sedate a lion. I watch with amusement as she throws back the liquor and mentally prepares herself for the moment I approach her. She won’t come to me—I know that. Instead of rushing into this, I opt to take my time and enjoy her squirming. Destiny and Julie talk and laugh like old times. I wonder if she’ll welcome me the same way. Somehow, I highly doubt it.
As I put away another glass of whiskey and order another, I make small talk with the gentleman I happened to sit next to. Finally, she seems to be at ease, like she’s tricked herself into forgetting I’m here. I stand from my seat and walk over to her side of the bar. Just as I’m about to interrupt their conversation, she stands and walks right into my chest, knocking me back a step, but I steady her by placing my hands on her biceps.
I flash her the smile she could never resist. “Whoa, you’ve always been graceful. I see that hasn’t changed,” I tease, letting my burning hands fall away. It’s nice to know the tingle I always got from touching her hasn’t left.
&
nbsp; Her eyes double in size and her mouth is left hanging open. She quickly wipes her surprised expression away and replaces it with a fake, friendly smile. “How ya doin’, Wyatt?”
I look her up and down. I almost need to bite my fist. That. Fucking. Dress. It shows her long arms, her thin neck, her bulging chest, and her long, tan legs. “Good. How you been?”
She nods. “Good.”
There’s a long silence between us, so Julie turns around. “Wyatt, why don’t you join us for a round or two? Catch us up on what’s been going on in your life.”
I shoot her a grin. “Don’t mind if I do,” I say, sliding onto the empty barstool next to Destiny.
“You going somewhere, sweetheart?” I ask, looking up at her.
She forces a smile onto her face. “Nope,” she says, sitting back down.
“So, Wyatt, where ya been all this time?” Julie asks, clearly trying to force us to talk to each other.
“I’m more interested in where Destiny here has been, and why she refused all of my calls.”
She snorts. “You know why I refused your calls. Don’t act like your time away has affected your memory.” She picks up her beer and takes a long drink.
“My memory is just fine.” I swirl the liquid in my glass. “In fact, I remember many nights we spent locked away in that old treehouse of mine. You remember that?”
She refuses to turn her head to look at me, but I see her eyes roll to stare at me from the corners. She grinds her teeth slightly, causing her angular jaw to flex with tension.
I lean in. “What do you say we go check it out? See if it’s still standing,” I whisper low in her ear.
Her back stiffens. “That thing could burn to the ground for all I care,” she spits out.
“And have all our best memories go up in flames?” Clearly, I’m teasing her, trying to get her to feel something from the past.
“They already did. Prom night, remember?” She holds up her bottle, motioning for another.
I shake my head. Damn her. Here I am playing checkers, and she’s playing chess. I need to get her on the dance floor and hold her against me—where she can’t deflect. “To be fair, there’s not much from that night I do remember. In fact, all I remember is a single drunken honest mistake. No offense, Jules,” I add on, tilting my head enough to see her.
Julie holds up her bottle in salute. “None taken.”
I lean back in toward Destiny. “Come on, Des. We had a lot of good times. Like . . .” I wet my lips, drawing her eyes to them, “remember that time we snuck into your parents’ liquor cabinet, drank their best bottle of whiskey, and replaced it with water? What did we do that night?”
“I don’t remember,” she lies.
“Really? Because I seem to remember us having sex under the bleachers during a packed football game.” I smirk from the memory. “Before that, I’d never had a stadium cheer me on during sex . . . or after that, come to think of it,” I joke and her grin breaks free, even though she wipes it away as quickly as it appeared.
“What about the time we decided to go skinny-dipping at the city lake?”
She shakes her head. “Nope, nothing.”
I lean over and look at Julie. “We got caught by the police. Oh, and we somehow managed to lose our clothes. So we had to ride home butt-ass naked in the back of the police cruiser. Boy, was her dad mad.”
This time, a giggle slips out, but she silences it with a sip of beer.
Julie laughs and smacks her arm. “Why didn’t I know about that?”
Destiny shrugs. “It’s not exactly like I was proud of it. I didn’t tell anyone, and my dad bribed old Mr. Johnson to keep it out of the paper.” She smiles fully now.
“There was also this one time when she got the bright idea to do a home bikini wax.” My eyes turn serious as I remember the pain. “But she needed practice first, so I, being the amazingly sweet guy I am, offered to be her test subject.”
They both laugh out loud.
I nod. “So there I am, lying on her bed, completely fucking naked. I have my legs all spread apart. All I remember is praying over and over as she comes closer with this steaming bowl of hot wax.” Their laughs only get louder. “I just keep telling myself, ‘You’re going to score major brownie points with this, man. Just suck it up.’ So I did. She put this scalding hot wax on my area.” I motion toward my groin. “It burned like a son of a bitch. But I took some deep breaths and mustered through it. Then came the part where it had to be ripped off.”
They’re both crying now as they laugh so hard they can barely catch their breath.
“She doesn’t even warn me. She just rips it off, taking about seven layers of skin with it. I scream and swat her away. I’m thinking, ‘I just need to walk it off.’ So I get up to try pacing her floor, but multiple hairs are stuck to my leg with a little bit of wax, so every step is just another tug and another string of cuss words. By this point, she’s on the floor, just rolling with laughter. Then her dad comes banging on the door.”
“Daddy walked in and saw Wyatt trying to get his clothes on, but every time he lifted his leg to put his pants on, he pulled out more hair. He was just tripping and cussing, and all I could do was laugh. Daddy was so confused and angry, but it was funny because he was laughing too. He had no idea what was going on.” Destiny finishes the story and finally, I feel like I’ve gotten through to her on some level.
I can’t do anything but watch as she laughs. She’s so beautiful, she steals my breath. Her eyes are bloodshot from drinking, but they’re the clearest blue I’ve ever seen, and they’re glistening with happiness. Her lips are a deep red and they’re turned up in the corners. Her chest is bouncing from laughter. Seeing her this happy and carefree makes my heart long to feel hers beating next to it. My body is begging me to reach out and touch her—even something innocent, like brushing a hair from her cheek or running my hand down her arm.
I finish off my whiskey and motion for another as silence settles over us. I’m watching her out of the corner of my eye when I see her turn her head toward me. Her eyes start at the top of my head and go lower, down my body. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. I know she’s remembering our good times, and maybe even wondering how things would be between us now.
Some guy comes up to us. He bends down and asks Julie to dance. She shoots us a smile before placing her hand in his. The two of them walk off to the dance floor, leaving us alone.
“What do you say?” I ask, nodding toward the dance floor.
Her eyes squint in my direction. “I don’t know, Wyatt.”
“Come on, sweetheart. One dance can’t hurt.”
She seems to think it over for a moment, but then gives in and stands up with her arms crossed over her chest like she doesn’t trust herself to keep her hands to herself. I place my hand on the small of her back, leading her to the darkened corner. I feel her tense beneath my touch, and that tears at my heart more than it should.
With my hand on her back, I spin her around quickly. Her arms fall to her sides as her chest presses against mine. When her chest hits mine, a puff of air is pushed out, blowing against my dry lips. I take her hands in mine and raise them up to my neck. They stay as I allow mine to slide down her arms, then to her sides, and finally to her hips. Slowly, we start moving to the romantic country song. For the first minute, she tries to avoid eye contact.
“This is that dance we never got,” I whisper in her ear, pulling her closer.
She looks up at me, surprised by my words. Her mouth opens and I have a feeling she’s going to argue with me, so I cut her off.
“Just . . . give me this. Close your eyes.” She rolls them at first, but then they flutter closed. “Now, imagine you in your puffy white dress, and me in my tux. Picture the blue lights from the gym ceiling shining down on us, the smell of too many sweaty bodies crammed into one place, and maybe the stench of whiskey coming off my breath. If you try really hard, you can see it—see us. How we were back then. Happy, in love, ful
l of hopes and dreams for the future we’re about to spend together. Can you see it? Feel it?”
I see her nod her head slightly. “Stay there with me,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers. “Let’s live in the past, just for tonight. We’re 18 again. I love you, and you love me. We have the world at our fingertips.”
Something is drawing me closer. It may be the soft, steady rhyme of her heart beating on my chest. It could be that after all these years, she’s still wearing that same perfume. It could just be feeling her soft skin against mine again. Either way, I need to taste her—feel her lips on mine.
I lean forward, capturing her mouth. She sucks in a deep breath, shocked and surprised. For a moment, she’s frozen, unsure if this is something she wants, but then I feel her let loose. A dam breaks and a flood of want washes over her. Her lips begin to move, as her tongue comes out to dance with mine. Her fingers glide through the back of my hair as she holds me close. She tastes just as good as I remember: sweet, perfect. My hands move from her hips to her lower back, then up and back down, roaming over her like I need to make sure she’s actually here in my arms.
Her heat settles over me like a thick blanket as I move one hand up to cup her jaw. God, I never want this kiss to end. I wonder if she feels the same way. I can feel her beginning to pull away, so I move my other hand up as well. I’m holding her to me, never wanting to let go. Finally, she pulls away and her eyes find mine. They’re wide with alarm and maybe fear, but I also see love and lust burning behind those baby blues. Her lips are parted with her heavy breathing, her chest rising and falling.
“Wyatt, I can’t,” she whispers.
“Why not, Destiny?” I ask, trying to move back in, but she stops me with a single hand on my chest. “I . . . I can’t do this again.” She shakes her head as she backs away, beyond my reach.
“Des, please,” I nearly beg.
“I can’t keep repeating the same mistakes from my past. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
Loves Me NOT: A Small Town, Second-Chance Romance (Slade Brothers Book 4) Page 4
