Wordlessly, he hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me in. My hands land on his shoulders and my temple rests against his chin; I’m not quite tall enough to meet him cheek to cheek. His arm stays locked on my waist while the other one slides up my back, encouraging our bodies even closer. My lungs fill; my stomach tightens. I’m reminded of the kiss we shared. The skin of his chin smolders against my temple. I’m tempted to lift my head up and whisper a trail of lies to him. You’re a bad kisser; you need more practice. Probably bad at sex too; you need my help.
The love song ends all too quickly, and I’m not ready for Henry to let go. But it’s okay, because the next one begins and Henry’s hold on me doesn’t loosen. Nor does it for the next song.
Or the next one.
Trick ’N’ Whiskey
Tina.
I love Tina. I said Trick.
It was all there. I was saying it. It was said. But it was all wrong.
Now the night’s over. The dinner is done. Having her wrapped in my arms, breathing in her scent, our bodies moving to the music has ended. We’re driving back to the cabin where it’s off to separate rooms. Tomorrow will go fast. Breakfast, the golf range, and home, where I drop her off. That’s it.
It isn’t.
“We still have to plan our first date,” I say with a large amount of glee just as we pull into the driveway.
“What?”
“We said five dates in four weeks and then a ‘first’ one so we can see if I’m ready.” Good plan. Excellent plan. This gives me more time. I have got to get this right.
“Henry, I know we planned on the five dates and then a first, but the truth is... you don’t need a practice first date. If a girl doesn’t—”
I press my foot on the brake a little too hard, jolting us forward.
“You don’t want to do go on a first date with me?” My jaw tenses, and I gulp down some rising bile.
“You don’t need it. You’re ready.” She smiles over at me as she unbuckles her seat belt.
She doesn’t want a first date. She wants this over as soon as possible. She’s prepared for me to date another girl, but not her.
“Then I guess we’re good. Tomorrow I can bring you home. We don’t need to go to the range.” I’m angry and there’s no hiding it. “It sounds like you’re anxious to get back to the dating world. Maybe you have a date with Don already planned.” I know his fucking name is Dan, but that’s what guys do when they’re exploding with jealous rage. I get out of the car and slam the door hard. A second later the passenger door slams as well.
“You mind explaining to me what I said that has you so upset?” Tina hollers, running to catch up to me. “Because I’m telling you that I think you’re ready, that you’re going to make a great boyfriend for someone, and instead of being grateful, you seem like you’re ready to rip my head off. I thought you’d be happy.”
“Happy?” I all but scream the word, and Tina recoils. This is all going to shit. I’m not used to arguments, speaking my mind with a woman. Emotions stayed bottled up in my last relationship. We never shouted or even seriously discussed. Not even when we broke up; maybe that’s why we did.
I turn my head and collect myself, staring up at my parents’ sprawling cabin. The curtains in the front room are pulled back, and I see two heads staring out. I make eye contact with one of the heads, and the curtains get tugged back into place.
“Henry, I don’t understand,” Tina says in a small voice. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.” I face her, hanging my head in shame. I’m new to speaking my mind and clearly not doing it right. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just... tired. Let’s go in. It’s been a long day. A good night’s sleep is probably what I need.”
“Me too,” she agrees, following me up the stairs to the porch.
“Hola!” The front door flings open, and Remi steps out with two drinks in her hands.
“Who’s ready to party?” Jenn sings with two glasses of her own. The whiskey chicks. First there was one and now there are two.
Both Tina and I are handed a drink.
“Oh, no, I’m good. We were just going up to bed.” Tina tries handing the drink back, and of course, it’s not taken.
“No, we need to party. It’s cabin rules. Everyone drinks whiskey at the cabin. Right, Whiskey Chick?” Jenn slings an arm around Remi, and it appears as though the whiskey has already been flowing for a while here tonight.
“I thought we were doing breakfast, not drinks?” I lift the drink that was shoved into my hand and take a big gulp. Anything to calm the nerves. It’s a smooth drink. No harsh taste or burn coating my throat. I take another gulp, already almost halfway done with my cup. A stiff drink may be just what’s needed. Although... this isn’t all that stiff. Maybe because it’s mixed with soda. “Where’s the bottle? I prefer whiskey straight up.”
“Oh, yay, good. Remi will get it.” Jenn puts her hands up and steps to the side, blocking me from searching. “You guys just come in the living room. We’ll hang out and talk.” Her demeanor has changed—not as drunk as she appeared a minute ago. I raise a brow. “So we can like partaaaaaay.” She returns to silliness, dancing her way over to the living room.
“If you’re not up for this, I understand,” I say to Tina. Drinks with the two wackos was never part of the plan. I’ve already put her through enough tonight. “We can ignore them and go upstairs. They’re probably so gone they won’t even notice.”
“No. Let’s hang out.” Tina tilts her cup back and takes a big swig. “Besides, who says no to whiskey?
I’m on my third glass. Relaxed but not drunk. At least I don’t think so. I am laughing a lot, but that’s only because the girls are hysterical. Liquor has loosened us all up, and I’m being told the most hilariously romantic tale of how Remi met Henry and Jenn’s brother, Adam. Ironically, whiskey played a big part in it.
“Ya know how you’re helping Henry fix his bad date mojo?” Remi throws herself down on the sofa next to me, leaning into my shoulder. “Do you know that I was one of his bad first dates?”
“Okay, no. We don’t need to hear that story.” Henry tries cutting her off.
“No, I do need to hear it,” I say over Henry, scooching up so I don’t miss a word.
“First, Jenn, these two need another drink. Can you take care of that while I tell the story?” Remi points to our cups, and Jenn rushes over to collect them, disappearing into the next room. “Well, me and Jenn were friends. We met at the hair academy and she tried to set me up with her brother. Only, hello, wrong brother, she sets me up with this one. I was so fucking bored that the second time I saw him, I literally asked him to kill me with one of his golf clubs.” Remi laughs so hard she snorts.
“I have no idea how we weren’t a match,” Henry says dryly, rolling his eyes and turning toward me. “Our short-lived romance was one of convenience. An ill-made match by my well-meaning sister.”
And on that note, in she returns with our fresh drinks. I’m handed mine, which is filled to the top, and I have to sip it immediately to keep it from spilling. This must be a high-end liquor because I’ve never been able to drink whiskey with such ease before. These drinks are going down super easy. I should probably slow down.
“Well, Henry’s not boring to me. I love dating him,” I say without thinking. Yes, I definitely need to slow down. I take one more sip and place my cup on the coffee table in front of me.
“Of course, you do. He’s a great guy.” Jenn gets up from where she just took a seat, retrieves my drink off the table, and hands it back to me. All eyes, including Henry’s, are on me. I take another sip of the lip-loosening liquid.
“Tell me about Adam.” I’m back to sipping but at least coherent enough to change the direction of the conversation. “Does he look like Henry?”
“Nope. Completely different.” Remi’s grin is ear to ear. “He’s a little shorter, buzzed hair, his features are darker, like Judy’s. Henry and Jenn get their looks from Robert. You’l
l meet them next time.”
There is no next time, but instead of giving the awkward reminder and killing the fun vibe in the room, I say nothing and return to my drink. It’s almost empty.
“What whiskey is this?” Henry asks as he drains his glass. His lips and tongue make a noise as he ponders the taste, squinting.
“Yes, I was wondering too. It’s so good.” Now my glass is empty too.
“Oh.” Jenn looks at Remi, who looks back at Jenn. “It’s just, I don’t know, whiskey,” she says guiltily.
“This isn’t one of the ones from Dad’s reserves, is it?” The way Henry questions her leads me to believe if it is, we’re drinking a very expensive whiskey.
“Yeah. With the label,” Jenn says vaguely.
“What label?” Henry waits. “The gold one?”
“I don’t know. Yeah. Maybe.” Jenn stiffens and then shimmies her shoulders, going ultraloose. “I’m soooooo drunk. Know what’s on fire?” she asks, still shimmying away. “The roof!”
“Oh yeah it is.” Remi is fist pump dancing as they sing away about the burning roof.
The whole scene is so stupid, you can’t help but laugh. They’re completely wasted. Am I drunk too? I’m not sure, but I do know I’m feeling good.
“One more round of shots,” Jenn sings, and the two scatter to go retrieve them. It would have been much easier if they brought the bottle in, but I’m guessing maybe Jenn did crack open the gold-labeled bottle and wanted to hide that little fact.
“I didn’t have you pegged as a whiskey drinker,” Henry says, motioning to my empty glass.
“I’m usually not.”
“You’ve had a lot. Are you okay?” He raises a skeptical brow.
“I’m a little tipsy.” A giggle escapes. “Not as drunk as them, but definitely feeling good.” I am feeling good. Really good. Maybe it’s the whiskey. Maybe it’s the fun vibe of the girls. Maybe it’s just Henry.
“Shots!”
All four of us have a small cup of whiskey, and we slam them back.
“Okay, that is enough for me.” My body is perfectly buzzing. “I won’t be able to stand if I have any more,” I say through giggles.
“Oh, Tina.” Jenn sighs. “You are adorable.” She crouches down in front of me. Her eyes scan, taking me all in. “I knew you were out there,” she whispers, leaning in to hug me, continuing to talk into my ear. “Tonight, tell Henry all the reasons you love dating him.” I back away and look at her with creased brows. “It’ll help. Him.” She smiles and pulls away. “Ready, my dear?” She turns to Remi.
“Yup.” Remi hops up from her seat. She hugs me as well. “Night. See you in the morning.”
“Are you sleeping with me or in Adam’s room so you can sniff his pillow all night?” Jenn teases her bestie.
“How about I take the pillow from his room and sleep in yours?” Remi smiles, following Jenn out of the room.
“As long as you’re only going to sniff it. No pillow humping.” Their laughter-laced voices trail off, and it’s just Henry and me in the room.
“They’re nuts.” Henry says, rubbing his forehead. “Maybe now that they’re gone, we can have an actual conversation. You were saying something before about dating me. You said it was good.”
“I said I loved dating you.” I take his sister’s advice and use my whiskey courage before it goes away. I’m not sure what it will do. But I think a part of me just wants to say everything that I’m feeling. And what better time for that then when you’ve got a belly full of booze? “And I mean it.”
Henry’s eyes meet mine and lock. After a few seconds he looks to the right as if lost in contemplation.
“Hold that thought,” he says before standing up. “I’ll be right back.”
The Whiskey Trick
I catch up to them at the top of the stairs, grabbing each one by the bicep and leading them into Jenn’s room.
“What did we really drink tonight?” I demand.
“Whiskey,” Jenn says without meeting my stare. I turn to the other guilty face.
“Whiskey,” Remi insists in a low voice, intently focused on her fingernails.
“Funny that neither one of you seems very drunk right now.”
“It was that gold label like you said. It tastes different. That’s all. And we are drunk.” Jenn is not going to give up that easily.
“There is no gold label.” There’s green, blue, and black in Dad’s collection, but no gold. “That was quite a show down there. Fake drinking, fake whiskey, fake drunk dancing. But I don’t understand. Why?” These two have become quite the scheming duo, but their motive on this one is unclear.
“We heard you two yelling when you came home. We knew things didn’t go like you wanted them to. You needed our help.”
“I don’t need your help, but thank you.”
“You do need my help. Don’t you see?” Jenn slams a hand against her chest and then points toward the hall. “Tina is down there drunk. She’s happy, she’s loose, and now is the perfect time to go down there and talk to her.”
“But she’s not really drunk.”
“I know that, and you know that, but she doesn’t.” Jenn reaches a hand out for an assuring pat but stops, given my current mood. “She’s comfortable, relaxed, happy, all because of you, not six glasses of whiskey. You make her happy. The whiskey trick was just a... helper. A way for her to loosen up, say things she means because she means them, not because she’s drunk. Then you know for sure what she’s feeling, and you can finally tell her how you feel.”
I really have loved dating you. That’s what she said. Those were genuine words. Not drunken words.
My sister is a fool. But if this works, a brilliant fool.
If Tina believes she is filled with liquid courage, then perhaps the conversation I’ve been trying to have and failing miserably at can finally take place. We can talk and she can answer comfortably and truthfully under the veil of false drunkenness. And if the way I feel for her is not reciprocated, I can blame it on the whiskey, avoid the awkwardness, and move on. This could actually work.
“Before I go,” I ask. “What did we really drink?” I should know just in case poison control needs to be notified.
“Remember that weird tea Mom and Dad got from Machu Picchu? With that weird taste no one could place.” She bubbles out a laugh. “Well, we thought it could totally pass for whiskey.” It can’t and it doesn’t, at least not for me. “Now, go back down there before she fake sobers up and me and Remi need to figure out another way to help you.” She grabs my shoulders and shoves me out. “Go.” She shuts the door, and I hear the lock click.
This is still a risky plan. I’m anxious. I place my finger on my nose, closing up one nostril to breathe in through the right, switching sides to release the air through the left. An efficient anxiety-reducing method… that doesn’t do squat. If I go down there and this isn’t reciprocal, moving on will not be an easy task.
The staircase I’ve been up and down a million times is suddenly steep and slippery, causing me to trip over my own feet. I return to the living room winded and working hard to steady my nerves.
“Everything okay?” Tina asks. Her heels are off and her legs are curled underneath her.
“Fine. Everything is fine.” I struggle for even breaths. Her feet are bare, not her body. “Do you need anything? Another drink?”
“No. My head is already spinning. I’m good.” She adjusts her position on the couch, and one of the straps of her dress slides down. I watch, waiting for her to slip it back into place, but she doesn’t.
“It’s warm in here.” I unbutton my jacket, removing it and slinging it over one of the wingback chairs. “So you were saying?” I hope to lead us right back to where we left off.
“I was telling you that I’ve loved dating you,” she says, much to my surprise. I definitely thought it was going to take more than that. “Because I do. Do you want the beta report?” Her body language and hooded eyes tell me she is still �
�drunk.” She pats the cushion next to her on the couch, and I take a seat, mere inches from her and the errant strap.
“Please. Tell me everything.” A wave of guilt trickles in over the whiskey truth. Is this fair? Do I say something?
“The coffee shop. I thought that was a date,” she starts. “You were such a dick saying you had no interest in me. I should have walked out instantly. I don’t even know why I didn’t.” The report starts off with an unexpected kick in the gut. “I know you were just speaking the truth and being upfront, but there are definitely ways to say things with a bit more couth. I know in the business world directness is what you strive for, but on a personal level... ouch.”
It’s hard to believe I said I had no interest in her. I’m a fool. Is this what self-loathing feels like? That was me only four weeks ago. Is that who I really was? No wonder I had so much trouble finding someone.
“You have opened my eyes so much,” I say and want to continue, but she holds up a hand to stop me.
“I’m in the middle of my report. You can talk when I’m done.” Her words are said with a lopsided grin. “The first date, the flowers. I told you they were over the top, but truthfully, I loved them. I don’t even think I realized how much I appreciated the gesture and thought behind them until I got home. If it had been a real date, it would have been weird when you first handed them to me, but it wouldn’t have been a deal breaker. I mean, it’s freaking flowers. How is that a turnoff? Those flowers spent over a week in my room. Every time I saw them, I thought of you.”
Yes. Flowers are a good thing. Exactly.
“And yes, you do come on strong, like the stalking thing. But I get it. You’re used to a world where research is key. Our stuff is out there for all to see and yet we tend to freak out when anyone looks at it. But you took an interest in me; that shouldn’t be a turnoff. Stalker was not the right word.” Her body has now shifted so that we are facing each other. “The arrogance thing. Okay, yes, you need to tone that down. Be more humble.” She sways forward and lowers her voice, reaching a hand out, resting it on my chest. “Even though you have every right to be cocky. You are gorgeous, Henry.” She sits back quick, retrieving her hands to cover her face. “Okay, that is definitely the whiskey talking. I should probably stop now.”
Whiskey Trick Page 9
