3. Thanks For Celebrating My Blue Balls
THREE
THANKS FOR CELEbrATING MY BLUE BALLS
Lach
Twenty minutes. That’s all I’m giving myself to sit here and be a piece of shit, pining over a woman I met an hour ago. This isn’t what I do, and I’m not starting today. But damn, tonight would have been fun—scream-my-name type of fun. I prop my elbows on my knees and scrub my hands down my face. Something about her spoke to my soul. The gleam in her eyes, her soft hands on me, the way her lips would part when her gaze met mine like I took her breath away. She certainly stole mine. Then she disappeared without a word. Maybe we were moving too fast? But she could have stopped things. I was perfectly content with my fingers tangled in her hair, kissing her. Maybe she got an emergency phone call and didn’t have time to tell me. Fuck. I’ve been hanging out with Rylee and Dessa too much. I rise to my feet. Twenty minutes is over.
Back at the bar at Dessa and Garrett’s wedding reception, I spot Trey and Rylee as they wait for their drinks from the bartender. As I sulk toward them, Trey notices me first and does a double take.
“Weren’t you just making out with someone?” He glances at his watch. “And you’re already finished? My guess is you left her completely unsatisfied. Poor girl. Probably sworn off men forever now.” He presses his lips together and shakes his head in disappointment. Rylee glares at him. At least someone is on my side. The bartender passes them their drinks, and I order one for myself.
“I’ll have you know it’s actually the other way around.”
“Wait. She left you unsatisfied?” Trey asks.
“She got hers and I didn’t.” I lift a shoulder and let it drop.
“Damn. Too bad she bailed. I’d love to buy her a drink for taking what she wanted.” Trey raises his glass of whiskey.
“Thanks for celebrating my blue balls.” The bartender slides a lowball in my direction. I raise the glass in a toast before taking a sip. The whiskey burns as it flows down my throat. “Honestly, I don’t even know what happened. I was following her lead. Then she asked if I had a condom. I didn’t, so I went to find one, and when I came back, she was gone.”
“Oh, the old looking-for-a-condom trick. Happens to everyone.” Trey pauses. “No. Actually, it only happens to you.” He clasps my shoulder, a smug smile on his face.
“Thanks.” I swallow another gulp of whiskey. “It’s my sign to not hook up at destination weddings. Been there, done that, and have the blue balls to prove it.” Rylee opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, I spit out, “Don’t tell me I’ll find my one because if I was looking for my one , I’d find her, and I’m not looking.”
She pinches her lips shut. “Well then, I guess I don’t need to say anything more. We’ll let you enjoy your whiskey. Trey.” She spins to face him, resting her palms on his chest. She whispers, and unfortunately not quietly enough, “Let’s finish our drinks, go back to our room, and you can sour cream my burrito.”
I gag, the whiskey burning my nostrils. “Something tells me you’re not talking about an actual burrito.”
Trey shakes his head, a giant smirk taking over his face. “Nope.”
“Yep. That’s what I thought.” I frown and point at my mouth. “I just threw up a little.”
“The night’s still young.” He waves his hand over the crowd. “You can find someone’s burrito to sour cream.”
“I’m never eating a burrito again.”
“Suit yourself.” Trey raises his glass, swallowing the last gulp of his whiskey. I wave them both off as they stroll across the dance floor and toward the courtyard of their hotel block. Twisting on my stool, I face the bar. Sitting here isn’t going to make the night better. I throw back the rest of my drink. I might as well do the same, minus the burrito. And sour cream.