by Marta Brown
My mouth goes dry because the answer is yes, but why would she assume my date was with Oliver? And what does she mean… finally?
Duh. Grandma must have told her.
So much for hoping my practice date with Ollie would be kept a secret. “Oh, no, that was last night. And it was no big deal.” To him, at least. “I was nervous about going on a date with Brad, and Oliver offered to take me out and show me the ropes, so to speak.”
“Wait.” Jessica’s eyes go wide. “Brad Garrison?”
Nodding, I sit up and smile, letting her complete shock soak in. Yep. I went out with Brad. Freaking. Garrison.
“Okay. I wanna know what, when, where, how, and… why?”
Chapter 20
Oliver
I don’t know what was worse about last night. Working Katie’s shift so she could go out with Brad, or lying in bed afterwards with nothing to think about except how their date was going. At least at work, I had something to keep my mind from wandering over every little detail. In bed… not so much. It’s no wonder I’m so freaking tired. But having the entire day off has helped.
Glancing at my phone for about the hundredth time, I rub at my eyes, surprised Katie still hasn’t called to tell me how the date went last night. But then again, maybe that’s a good thing. I’m not totally sure I want to hear all the gory details since I’ve come up with enough of them on my own—but still—I would have liked to hear her voice.
With remote in hand, I continue to channel surf, for anything other than the local eleven o’clock news to distract me from thinking about Katie, when my phone rings. It’s about damn time. And I say so when I pick up the phone without even looking at the screen.
“So? How’d it go?”
“How’d what go?” Megan yells over the familiar noise of the bar she works at. Laughing, screaming, and bass. Lots of bass. And the occasional broken glass shattering in the background.
“Oh, nothing. I thought you were someone else.”
“Let me guess… Katie?” she asks, even though we both know that’s exactly who I hoped it was. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna admit it.
“What’da ya want? I’m busy.”
“Busy, huh? No prob—I’m sure Brad will be happy to take care of Katie when she’s too drunk to walk. Guess I’ll talk to ya later then,” Megan says as my mind tries to play catch up. Did she just say Katie is drunk?
“Wait. What?” I say louder than necessary since I’m not the one in a packed bar, but I need Megan to repeat herself because I’m pretty sure I misunderstood her the first time. “Who’s drunk?”
“Katie. She’s down here with Brad, and I think you should come and get her before she does something she might regret.”
The incessant pounding in my ears muffling Megan’s voice is no longer the bar’s bass but my blood as I fly off the couch and out the door. “Be there in five.”
It’s not until I’m at the front door of Sloppy Joe’s that it dawns on me that I’m not twenty-one and it’s a bar. How in the hell am I going to get in? And a better question is how in the hell did Katie? I whip out my phone to call Megan back, but Eddie the bouncer waves me over before she can answer.
“Megan said you were on your way over, but man, I didn’t expect you to get here this quick. What’s the fire?”
“Don’t exactly know, but I have to get in there and find out,” I say, hoping he doesn’t bother checking my ID as I move past the old shipping rope the bar uses in lieu of a velvet one.
Eddie’s big, meaty hand stops me. “Hold up there, man. Your sis promised she wouldn’t serve you, on account you’re underage, but I gotta cover my ass just in case,” he says, grabbing my hand and marking a large, black X in Sharpie marker on the back. “You understand?”
“Sure, sure.” I nod, totally uninterested in anything this bar has to offer except finding Katie and figuring out how in the hell she ended up here and drunk.
Pressing through the mass of half-dressed bodies lining the counter, surrounding the tables, and bleeding onto the dance floor, I let my eyes scan every inch of the infamous bar until they land on Katie. On a table. Dancing.
“See what I mean?” Megan’s voice manages to cut through the chaos surrounding me, but unfortunately not the sight as Brad joins Katie on the tabletop and wraps his arm around her waist from behind. “They’ve been here for about an hour, and it keeps getting worse.”
I spin around and scowl at my sister. “How in the hell is she getting served? She’s eight-freaking-teen.”
Megan glances over her shoulder at the back office, leaning in close so I can either hear her better, or no one else can hear her at all. “She’s got a fake.”
“Are you kidding? How’d she get a fake past Eddie? Everyone knows Sloppy Joe’s is the hardest bar in the whole damn Keys to get into.” I drag my hands through my hair. “Unless she somehow got a ride to Miami and back in the last twenty-four hours, whatever she’s using has to be shoddy at best.”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize it’s not impossible. Maybe she did go to Miami. With Brad.
In all my speculating last night about what they were up to on their date, I never actually considered he’d step it up and take her all the way into the city. The tension in my shoulders tightens at how pathetic the date I took her on must have been in comparison.
“It’s worse—or I guess better—depending on who you ask,” Megan shouts in my ear. “It’s not actually a fake. It’s one of Jessica’s old licenses.”
I whip my head back to where Katie and Brad still are, seeing how much she really does look like her sister. Right down to the teeny-tiny jean shorts she’s wearing and the tequila shot in her hand. “Shit. That’s not good,” I say to Megan as I scan the bar for Joe, the owner.
“Don’t worry, he’s not in yet, but you need to get her outta here before he is.”
Without another word, I push through the crowd until I’m standing at the edge of the table with my neck craned up at Katie. Despite worrying about Joe catching her using a real fake ID and calling the cops—which he’s done before since it’s a criminal offense here—I can’t seem to stop myself from staring at her long, tanned legs, bare shoulders, and wildly sexy hair cascading down her exposed back.
“Ollie!” Katie shouts over the sound of the music blaring through the loud speakers, before stumbling down from the table and flinging herself into my arms. “You’re here. I’m soooooo glad you’re here. Come with me.” She pulls me away from the group she’s with and towards a quiet table tucked into the corner, leaving Brad and that bitchy cell phone girl from the Griddle dancing on the tabletop together. “I have a question,” she breathes in my ear when we’re finally alone—or as alone as we can be in a crowded bar. “Have you ever had sex on the beach?”
In an instant, my mouth goes dry and my palms go wet. Did she just say what I think she said?
“Because it’s amazing. Here…” She grabs a bright yellow and red shot from the table, one of many, and shoves it in my hand before snagging one for herself. “It’s so yummy. Cheers.”
Oh. That sex on the beach.
“Hey—” I start to say, but Katie pushes the drink to my lips.
Needing to get us outta here as quickly as possible, since there’s no time to argue over alcohol limits, misdemeanors, and felonies, I throw down the shot before grabbing the one she’s bringing up to her lips and drinking it too. She obviously doesn’t need more.
“See, I told you they’re good,” Katie slurs slightly, her cheeks pink and her smile bright as she grabs my hand and starts to drag me towards the center of the bar. “Now come dance with me. I missed you last night.”
She missed me? Last night?
Okay. She’s obviously had more than just one too many.
“All right. Time to go,” I say, keeping Katie’s hand wrapped tightly in mine as I scan the room for the nearest exit, which happens to be blocked by Joe.
Shit. Dancing it is.
Once we’re deep in the middle of the dance floor so we can disappear in the mass of partygoers, Katie puts her arms around my neck and pulls her body flush with mine, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine. Or maybe that’s from the two shots. But I doubt it.
“I wanted to call you last night after I got home, but I figured you were probably still working, and then Jess called and so I didn’t.” She lays her head on my shoulder and starts to sway side to side, despite the song being way more upbeat than her current tempo indicates. “I was definitely going to call you tonight though and tell you how it went.”
Great. Just what I want. Getting drunk dialed by my best friend to hear all about her awesome date.
Wait. Did she say I was probably still working when she got home last night? Maybe her date wasn’t so awesome after all.
I can’t help but smile as she nestles her head into the crook of my neck and sighs. And for a brief moment, I feel happy and at home. Too bad moments are just that. A moment.
“Hey, thanks for keeping my date warm,” Brad says, wrapping his arm around Katie’s waist and pulling her away from me and towards him. She lets out a small, drunk giggle at the sudden movement, her eyes slightly hazy and unfocused. “But I’ll take it from here, dude.”
Yeah? I arch my brows. Not as long as I have anything to say about it.
Gripping Katie’s hand, I pull her back towards me and tuck her protectively under my arm. “She’s not going anywhere but home, dude,” I say back mockingly.
“You know what? I’m getting pretty sick and tired of you and your mom getting all up in my business. I don’t need either of you telling me how to treat Katie, so why don’t you piss off,” Brad spits out, his speech thick with alcohol and his breath even worse as he shoves my shoulder and knocks Katie off balance and onto the floor.
Without a thought, I plant both palms against his chest and push him so hard that he stumbles back, smashes into the crowd, and unintentionally grabs the attention of the entire bar. Including Joe.
In one quick motion, I lean down, sweep Katie into my arms, and make a beeline for the back exit where Megan is standing with the door casually propped open like she’s letting in some fresh air as both Brad and Joe yell for us to stop.
Not. A. Chance. In. Hell.
Chapter 21
Katie
While the cool air helps clear my mind, the fuzzy edges persist. But I can’t seem to care enough to care that I’m dizzy and seeing double because I’m safely wrapped in arms that smell like powdered sugar and sea salt. My Ollie.
“Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly confused why we’re not in the bar anymore when he sets my feet on the ground. He keeps his hands gripped firmly on my arms to help steady me since the ground is wobbly. “And where is everyone?”
Ollie glances across the street at the two bars that look just like Sloppy Joe’s, and then back to me as I furrow my brows. “Hey, when did another bar named Sloppy Joe’s open? And right next door to the real one?” I say, since I don’t remember seeing the new bar when Brad and I first got here.
“Okaaay, that does it,” Ollie says, turning me in the opposite direction of the bar, the action making my head spin. “There’s only one Sloppy Joe’s. And clearly, you’ve had way too many drinks while you were there. So, it’s time for you to go home—or at least to my house until you sober up enough to go home. I know Big Pop and Grandma Betty are cool, but they’re not that cool.”
But tonight, I’ve kind of been.
Digging in my feet, I try to twist out of Oliver’s arms. I want to go back to the bar. “But, Ollie, I was having fun. And my grandparents won’t even be up by the time the bar closes. Come have fun with me.”
“You call that fun?” Oliver tosses his chin back in the direction of the one and only Sloppy Joe’s, despite the fact I still see two, and wrinkles his nose. “Since when?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug as I pull my arm out of his loosening grip the further and further away from Main Street we get and the clearer and clearer my mind gets away from the hot, crowded bar and the cold, sweet drinks. “Since… today?”
“Here,” Oliver says, stopping at a small hot dog stand and buying two waters. He twists the top off one and hands it to me. “You’ll thank me in the morning—among other things.”
It might not be sex on the beach, but the cool, crisp water feels just as good going down. “What do you mean, ‘among other things’?” I ask over the edge of the bottle as I take another sip and narrow my eyes.
Balling his fists, a flash of worry, and then anger, seems to cross his face, but it’s the one that settles around his pursed lips that throws me off. Is that jealousy? Or am I just seeing double again?
“Nothing,” he grumbles. “It’s nothing.”
Seeing double or not, I know my best friend. “Okay, I might be tipsy, but I’m not stupid. What other things?”
Ollie lets out a short, tight laugh as we turn the corner onto his palm tree-lined street. The distant noise from the bars on Duvall Street fades behind us. “You’re a little more than tipsy.”
Spinning around to insist I’m barely drunk, I stumble backwards off the curb and fall flat on my butt with a thud. Oliver doubles over laughing, which only makes me laugh harder until we’re both gasping for breath.
Okay. Maybe Ollie’s right. “Fine. Maybe I’m a little drunk.”
Oliver holds his thumb and index finger apart about in inch. “Maybe a little,” he teases before helping me up off the ground and checking for any cuts or scrapes. “Speaking of… how exactly did you manage that?”
“Getting drunk?” I laugh. “It’s not rocket science, Ollie. I was drinking.”
“I meant how did you manage to end up drunk at Sloppy Joe’s?”
Oh. That.
I feel a flush of embarrassment rush up my neck and across my face, until my cheeks are red hot. Do I tell him about the talk Jess and I had? And why we had it? “Tell me what ‘among other things’ means first and then I’ll tell.”
Ollie looks me over like he’s deciding how much he wants to say as we climb the steps to his apartment. “It really is nothing,” he says, opening the door, our pillow fort gone except for the pile of sheets folded on the edge of the couch. “I just didn’t want you to get in trouble tonight.”
“Because I was using Jessica’s old license?”
“Sure,” Ollie says, tossing his keys to the counter, and even drunk, I can hear a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Okay, your turn. How’d you end up there anyway?”
Flopping down on Ollie’s couch, I let the room spin as I motion for him to join me. “I was on a date. With Brad.” I hiccup. “Well, more like a group hang. That’s what Jess calls it,” I say when Ollie plops down beside me, twists open the other bottle of water, and hands it to me. “I actually talked to her last night, and she knows a lot about boys,” I remind him—just in case he forgot—and then hiccup again.
“She and my sister both. Mom too, frankly,” he says under his breath as he glances at her empty bedroom. Raking his hands through his sandy-blond hair—hair that looks so soft I want to touch it—he lets out a ragged sigh and turns his attention back to me. “So, what did the all-knowing boy guru Jess have to say?”
“She told me guys like Brad don’t really do ‘date-dates’. They do ‘hangs’. But not you.” I reach up and comb my fingers through his hair, taming the wild strands as I go. “You do date dates… just like in the books,” I say, slowly pulling my hand from his hair and running it down his tense, squared jaw until my fingers brush against his bottom lip—wishing it were as easy to be with Brad as it is to be with Ollie.
“Katie,” Oliver whispers, reaching up and wrapping his hand around my wrist, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand gently, “you deserve a guy who takes you out on date-dates, and not just to bars to get you drunk.”
Staring into my best friend’s eyes, I inch closer, despite the proximity causing my vision to blur, and admit, “Actually, going to
the bar was my idea.”
“But why?” Oliver says, his voice gravelly to my ears after being overly saturated with bass. “That’s not really your scene.”
“I know, but I was nervous. And Jess said—”
“Nervous about what? I think we covered about everything on our date. Or… uh… our fake date, anyway,” Ollie corrects, pulling my hand away from his face, setting it back in my lap, and then leaning away from me. The sudden distance does nothing to help my blurry sight, or my thudding heart.
“I guess I was worried about kissing him good night…”
“If I remember correctly,” Ollie flinches, “we covered that, too.”
I bite my lip. “But maybe I still need a little more practice, after all.”
Chapter 22
Oliver
Did she just say what I think she did? She wants a little more practice… kissing?
If her lips crashing into mine are any indication—she did. And my resolve is gone. Left somewhere between the sex on the beach shots and slow dancing with her at Sloppy Joe’s. Maybe sooner.
But who knows at this point, because the only thing I can think about is the way her lips are moving against mine.
Burying my hands into her long, blonde hair, I let myself forget about what this might mean for her, or me, or us in the future, and just let it happen, because I can’t convince myself to make it stop. I’ve wanted to kiss her for so long and she’s finally kissing me back.
“Ollie,” she whispers as she guides me down with her hands at my jaw and her breath in my ear, until our bodies are pressed against one another on the tiny couch. “Kiss me again.”
Over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, I can only muster a nod before her eyes close with a flutter and my lips lower to hers again.
The kiss is tentative, soft and gentle, and exactly the way I’ve always thought kissing Katie would be like. But it’s the quiet moan when our mouths open and she flicks her tongue out to meet mine that I never would have expected. And my reaction is even less expected.
