by Ava Alise
“Well, we had to close shop this weekend. All that rain the other day caused a little flooding. It should be straightened out by next weekend I hear,” Nard says, after a beat, then takes a swig from his cup.
“Alright. I was wondering.”
“So, I’m trying to get the fuck out of here. You know my ex, Rita, she’s friends with Haley; she just walked in, and shit is getting really uncomfortable. Want to ride out? The rest of these fucks are too drunk, they’d probably get us kicked out of anywhere we try to go.”
I shrug.
Shit. Why not? Nothing is more uncomfortable than being stuck with your ex, especially when they’re as crazy as mine.
“I’ll get my coat.”
Nard and I hop in my car and head down the highway toward town. Nard looks stressed, and I almost feel bad for him, but I tried to warn him not to complicate things with a relationship. Shit gets ugly and then goes south. Why not fuck and leave the strings for pussies that way there are no hurt feelings and no expectations? It’s the easiest way not to have to deal with the Shayla’s of the world.
LIZ
“Yes! I love Hip Hop Throwback Night!” Ros squeals as we walk through the doors of The Lounge.
“This cover band is my favorite!” Brooke yells over the music.
The band is playing “No Diggity” by Blackstreet and honestly, I love this band too. Brooke, Ros, Kesha, and I are all dressed in different variations of sexy dresses and heels. Ros made sure I wore the tight, little red dress she picked out for me earlier. I tried to get out of it at the last minute and wear sweats, but after she dragged me around the dress shop to find the perfect sexy dress for the ‘New Liz’, she was hard-pressed to let me wear sweats. I was even going to wear the all black ones, just for her.
I can’t deny I feel good wearing this dress.
“Smile, Liz, this is your night!” Ros beams.
I muster up a smirk and look over to the band as we walk into the main room. I’m tired and I really don’t want to be here, but if I don’t at least try to have fun, Ros won’t stop trying to make me have fun.
Shit, we’re here for a good reason… I guess.
“There’s a table!” Kesha yells over the music, pointing out a table in the left corner of the room.
“Oohh, and it’s right by the bar,” Ros yells, excitedly. I survey my girls. Brooke looks amazing in her light blue dress and smiles brightly as she looks into the crowd of dancers. Her blonde hair is curled in layers framing her hair face and accentuating her crystal blue eyes. Kesha, the shortest of us all, stands four-feet-eleven. The only reason I know her exact height is because she swears that any day now she’ll have a late in life growth spurt and cross over five-feet-tall. Her complexion is that of milk chocolate and contrary to her forward nature, she is just as sweet. Her hair is big and curly, and she’s wearing a short tan knee-length dress with a lace design covering the fabric. Kesha smiles just as happily as Ros, who is rocking her black dress.
They all look so happy. Ugh, I’m just not into this. Would it be wrong to ditch your friends during your own divorce party? Maybe I need a drink.
“Let’s hit the bar,” I tell the girls. The moment I stepped foot in the building, I made peace with knowing the only way I’ll make it through the whole night is to take Ros’ advice and drink… a lot!
Kesha gives Brooke her order then sits, placing claim on our table as the rest of us head to the bar.
“A lemon and vodka mixer and a shot of Patron!” I tell the bartender and pull out twenty dollars.
“Nope, drinks on us tonight!” Brooke says to me, smiling.
“Yup, whenever you need a refill, let one of us know; we got it.” Ros winks.
A rush of heartwarming goodness fills my chest. I really have the BEST friends! “Aww, thanks, guys,” I say, giving them a real smile.
“Okay, girls, I want to make a toast,” Ros says after we all have our drinks and are back at the table. The cover band starts playing “Doo Wop (That Thing)” by Lauryn Hill, and the dance floor floods with people.
“We’re toasting to Liz’s divorce, new beginnings, and being sexy and single!”
“Girl, you are not single,” Brooke says to Ros, laughing.
“Yes, I am! You know how Kevin and I are. SO CHEERS, BITCHES!”
Brooke smiles, shakes her head at Ros, and everyone takes their shot.
“Damn! That one burns!” Kesha chokes out, grabbing for a cup to chase her Vodka shot.
“Well dang, Liz!” I hear Ros say as I chose to chase my shot of Patron with the entire vodka mixer.
We get more shots and repeat.
“Now let’s go!” Ros says, pulling me up to stand after we finish our second round of drinks.
The band has just finished “Can’t Stand the Rain” by Missy Elliott. The beat drops for “Thong Song” by Sisqo. Everybody in the place is going crazy as we make our way to the dance floor. What makes this band so good is that they have two lead vocalists, one male and one female, and they both can sing just about anything.
Ros, Brooke, and Kesha immediately begin singing along and dancing with the crowd, but I’m just not drunk enough for this yet. I feel like I’m in a crowded room that’s too damn loud, too damn hot, and I want to find somewhere to hide out.
I’m moving though, pretty much doing a two-step to the beat, while all the girls have already started dancing with random guys.
“Hey,” a deep voice comes from behind me.
Continuing my half-ass two-step and eyeballing the bar—I really want another drink, I hear the voice again.
“Excuse me, sexy.” I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see to see who the deep voice belongs to.
Standing behind me is… teeth, that’s all I see, teeth and a huge smile. I back up immediately, bumping into a girl behind me who is twerking hard for this beanpole looking guy, eh. The smile is attached to a very attractive guy, standing way too close and is almost half a foot taller than me, which explains the teeth to eye height.
“Hi,” I say, plainly.
“What, you don’t like this song?” Teeth says, offering a flirty smile.
I respond narrowing my eyes, “Why do you say that?”
“Because you aren’t really dancing. Who doesn’t like the “Thong Song”?”
I give him a mocking grin and turn to walk away.
Plenty of people don’t like this song, and if that’s his way of asking me to dance, he needs to work on his game. I happen to love this song, but because I hate everything right now, I plan on doing exactly what I came here to do… get wasted.
I tap Kesha’s shoulder, she is the closest of my friends to me, and I mouth to her, “Going to the bathroom.” I don’t want to make them stop dancing, and I know if I tell her that I’m headed back to the bar she’ll insist on buying. I’ll just sneak and buy my own drink. She nods and continues to dance with her random.
Walking away from Kesha, Teeth, and the crowd of sweaty people, I enter another crowd of sweaty people flocked around the bar ordering drinks.
“Vodka lemon mixer and a double shot of patron!” I yell to the bartender when it’s my turn. He’s a burly guy, tattooed, dark eyes, with a demeanor that reads ‘order the moment I look at you or it will be your only chance.” He takes a few more orders then makes my drinks. When I slide twenty dollars across the bar to pay and a hand stops it, pushing it back to me.
“I got it,” Teeth says, smiling at me, then looking at the bartender.
“Add to that a shot of Crown Royal.”
The bartender takes his money and passes him the drinks.
Staring at him, I’m half annoyed he followed me, but at the same time feeling kind of bad for being a bitch. We step away from the bar and take a few steps toward my table.
“Cheers,” he says, tapping my glass with his own, and without waiting on me, he downs his shot.
I take my shot, chasing it with only half of my vodka mixer this time. After I recover, I finally look u
p at him.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a somewhat polite smile.
“I’m Chris,” he says, sitting across from me, placing his cup down on the table.
“Liz.”
“No, you’re Red,” he says, smiling again.
I roll my eyes. He’s annoying, and the only reason I’m not walking away again is that he just bought me a drink. I’ve barely said two full sentences to him.
“Why Red?” I ask.
“Your dress,” Chris says.
“Clever,” I say, unable to keep up the charade.
“So why’d you walk away from me?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest and arching a brow.
At first, I was annoyed that he followed me to the bar, but looking at him dead on, he’s damn hard to ignore. Confidence rolls off him, not the cocky asshole kind, it’s the kind that tells you he’s a man who’s used to being in control and getting what he wants. Chris is wearing a blue Polo shirt paired with black jeans, and I swear that shirt was made just for him. Those biceps, his chest, everything about this guy screams ‘fuck me’ from his full lips, sparkling hazel eyes and ‘kill me now’ smile. His arms are defined and with the neon green light bouncing from the bar onto his body, his chest looks perfectly chiseled. SHIT!
“I…I just didn’t feel like dancing,” I stutter, quickly tearing my eyes from his body.
He chuckles, looks down, then up at me through his lashes smiling. “I didn’t ask you to dance.”
His statement catches me off guard. I’m already annoyed, and this insistent ass guy cornered me into a guilt conversation by buying me a couple of drinks, and now he’s trying to make me look crazy.
“Okay, so you walk up to a girl who’s dancing on the dance floor, tap her on the shoulder, but you don’t ask her to dance?” I ask, pursing my lips.
Chris begins to laugh, and I’m still looking at him like he’s crazy. That has to be the weakest save I’ve ever witnessed someone try.
Of course, he was going to ask me to…
“You didn’t look like you wanted to dance, but you did keep looking at the bar so… No, I wasn’t going to ask you to dance. Instead, I wanted to bring your sexy ass over here and buy you a drink,” Chris throws back at me.
And… he just put me in my place.
I don’t know what to say to that, I feel like a jackass. I feel like a HUGE bitch… again. Wow, twice in a row.
“Oh,” I say before I drop my eyes from his gaze.
He chuckles to himself, and maybe out of embarrassment—or maybe it’s the alcohol—but I laugh, like really laugh, and it feels good.
“Thanks again for the drinks, Chris,” I finally say, trying to loosen up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ros approaching from my right.
“Girl, I’m tired. Are you okay?” she says, falling into her chair out of breath. Looking up she notices Teeth, then she looks at me and smirks.
“Hi, I’m Ros, the bestie and… who are you?”
“I’m Chris,” he introduces himself, genuinely smiling at Ros, then shoots a glance back at me.
“The bestie huh?” He nods. “So what are you drinking, bestie?”
“Long Island Iced Tea,” Ros responds, cheerfully.
“Got it, I’ll be right back,” he says, shooting us that gorgeous smile, and I watch as he enters the crowd by the bar. Ugh. He’s making it hard to sulk. As much as I try not to check him out, my eyes roll over him from head to toe. Short brown hair, thick dark lashes, a body begging to be climbed. I’m sure the girls go crazy for this guy; me, on the other hand, totally immune. I need to fix this mess with Sean.
“Lizzy, he is cute! Did someone just find a rebound?”
“No. He’s sexy, yes, but he’s also annoying,” I say, noticing the heaviness in my voice, the alcohol must be kicking in.
“What did he do?” Ros asks with a questioning gleam in her eyes.
“Well, first he was all over my nerves on the dance floor, then he followed me to the bar and bought me a drink.”
Great, now I am slurring.
Ros looks at me confused.
“Wait, so you danced with him?” she asks with her eyebrow creased.
“No, I didn’t want to dance with him, I wanted to drink.”
“And… then he bought you the drink?”
“Yes,” I say.
Ros stares, forehead puckered.
“I think you might be buzzing, boo, because I’m not seeing the problem,” Ros says, breaking into a laugh.
I sigh, but before I can say anymore, Teeth resurfaces with two drinks, Ros’ Long Island Iced Tea and another Vodka Mixer for me. Ros thanks him and then gives me a look that says need me to get rid of him? I give her my best I got it look because, once again, I feel bad for being such a bitch to this guy.
I guess technically he hasn’t been anything but nice to me, and I’m kind of the dick in this scenario.
A group of girls I recognize from school walk past our table as they head to the bar. The girl at the back of the group catches my eye, and I nod to her in greeting, but her gaze falls on Teeth and her eyes widen. He doesn’t notice the girl’s reaction, or how she taps her friend’s shoulder to point him out. Once the other girl sees him, her eyes widen too. My brow furrows. I get that the guy is gorgeous, but they’re acting like he’s a celebrity. Ros, who’s been making small talk with Teeth, is also oblivious to how weird these girls are acting. I’m about to nudge her, but she is looking at the dance floor and Kesha is gesturing her back over. Ros smiles at Teeth, tells him it was good meeting him, and gives me one more glance to make sure I’m okay before she leaves us at the table.
I have got to get rid of this guy. I miss Sean; I’m not ready for all of this getting back out there crap, no matter how good he looks. I just want to go home.
Teeth, still sitting across from me, watches the crowd that’s now dancing to “Lose Control” by Missy Elliott, and the silence between us is awkward.
“So, you feel like dancing yet?” he asks, leaning toward me.
My heart begins to beat a little faster as I try to ignore the tingle that just shot through my veins. I hear myself tell him no, and that I need to get back to my girls because we’re out celebrating.
He finally gets the hint and stands when I do. The room blurs a bit when I stand, but clears after a second.
“Alright, sexy,”—he winks—“have fun.”
I grab my drink and very carefully walk away from him, when I feel him grab my elbow.
“Oh, and by the way, that dress you’re wearing… it’s fucking killing me,” he whispers in my ear, then he walks away.
That comment stops me in my tracks. I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t know exactly how to take it either.
I’m blushing by the time I make it over to Ros and the girls. Ros, now holding two drinks, is two-stepping while talking to Kesha and Brooke.
“Oh, you finally finished with the rebound?” Brooke teases.
“He’s not a rebound. I’m not thinking about rebounding anything anytime soon,” I say to Brooke.
“Really, then why are you blushing?” Brooke asks, cocking a brow.
The other two girls look up at me, and shit, this attention is making me blush more.
“Shut up!” I say, taking a swig of my drink.
“Why do you have two drinks, Ros?” I immediately ask, trying to change the subject.
“Well… the two guys Kesha and I were dancing with decided to buy us drinks; right after your NOT rebound bought me one. I mean, I’m not going to turn down a free drink.” Ros shrugs, and then continues, “Shit, if I had more hands and someone bought me another drink, my ass would be carrying three.”
We all laugh.
I finish off what is left of my drink and dance out a few songs with the girls. What songs were they? The hell if I know.
CHRIS
Girl in the red dress. Fucking hell.
I watch her from my place at the bar while she dances with
her bestie and two other girls. A few different guys approach her, I’m assuming to ask her to dance, but she blew them off just like she did me.
It’s crazy.
I know women. It’s my job to know women and should be every straight male’s job too. If we, as male’s, all understood what she truly means when she says Uh huh or It’s fine or when it’s the perfect time to kiss her and how to kiss her, it would make our lives a lot easier. This girl though, she’s tough and looks fucking edible; which is why I couldn’t just let her walk away earlier. I want to say she’s playing hard to get, but it almost seemed as if she was annoyed just by my presence. Here’s the funny thing, now I keep catching her looking at me.
“So you just gonna sit here all night or are you going to drink?” Nard asks, nudging me. I’ve been sitting at the bar since I walked away from Red, trying to decide if I’m going to order another drink or not.
“Well, one of us has to drive, and you haven’t stopped drinking since we got here so…” I say, giving Nard a knowing look.
“Fuck that! We can take a taxi,” he slurs.
A very cute girl comes up behind him, and he turns; she rubs his chest and leans against him, throwing very flirty vibes. This girl is just his type, sporting a small tattoo on her midriff that says “Pixie”. Nard likes his women on the smaller side, maybe it’s because he’s so big, linebacker big. He’s about six-feet-four, I know because he’s about two inches taller than I am, and the guy has to be pushing at least 220 pounds. He turns on the charm and tells the girl he’ll be right with her.
“I’m not leaving my car here, plus we live an hour away. I can drink when I get home,” I say.
He shrugs.
Red catches my eye again, this time quickly looking away when I meet her gaze.
I smile to myself.
“Aye, man,” I say to Nard, snatching his attention from his pixie.
